Prettiest
by arctapus
Summary: This is a story of love and wantonness, of elves, men and hobbits. Shagging. Oh, and there's a Ring too.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Prettiest

Author: Arctapus/H-boy

Code: LOTR, R, Violence, Sexual content, L/everyone :0), Humor

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own them. I borrow them and play.

Summary: A humorous take on the Lord of the Rings and her inherently funny characters.

Feedback: Answered.

=0=

They were gathered for important discussions, leaders from all over Middle Earth coming to Rivendell to talk. He was there for his father, representing the Great Green Woods at the Council. It had been a dream come true, coming here and being The One.

He stood in the doorway, light glinting off his shiny golden hair, peering into the room as he looked for a familiar face. Elrond was there, tall and comely. His father had told him about the bewitching ways of the great lord and so he watched him with a mingling of respect, seething sexual longing and loathing.

Another stood by him, a tall man with dark hair. He was human, that was clear. How he could tell, he knew not. He just knew it was so. Tall, strong, beautiful in face and form, he was intriguing and so Legolas of Mirkwood made a mental note to check further into the personal peccadilloes of the figure so earnestly in conversation with Lord Elrond.

Legolas, himself was no slouch in the looks department. He had been chosen prettiest five cycles of the sun running in the annual fall festivities that his father permitted for the sake of his mother. She liked to dance, sing and pick flowers, all the things that Elf women excelled in. His father, being more the manly man type liked to shoot, kill and drink lots of ale. Legolas himself was some place in between as he had come to the conclusion early on that a well made ass on a man excited his little pony a lot faster than one on a female.

Even if he did like dress up.

After a lot of soul searching and frenching boys in the loft of the hay barn, he knew that he was destined for different rather than great things. So when the opportunity came for him to ride to Rivendell and shoot the shit with a lot of comely and powerful men, he begged his father for the chance. "Dad, I want to go."

"I don't think so, son. Your mother needs you to help her squish grapes with her bare feet."

For a moment, he almost wavered and then he pressed onward. "Pa! How will I ever learn to be a leader of men?"

Thranduil sighed, visions of his son bending over to find the soap in the shower springing quickly to mind. "Okay."

Legolas suppressed a squeal and ran from the room, choosing from among his extensive wardrobe that which would bring out the blue in his eyes the best. Green and silver. Of course, he only *wore* green and silver but that was another tale for another time.

***Later that same evening ...

Dinner that night was around the big table that Elrond kept in the room with a roaring fire. It almost fried his shapely little ass as Legolas sat quietly studying the human male that was obviously so much a part of Elrond's family. He wondered who he was, this handsome yet sensitive fellow. All the questions discreetly asked during the day had only turned up a name.

Aragorn.

What kind of name was that, he considered. Aragorn. Actually, as he sat picking at the remains of a turkey leg, he considered it to be rather sexy ... /... so ... big boy ... how about going to the hay loft and showing me your ... gorn .../

He sighed and shifted on his chair. His taupe trousers were suddenly two sizes too small.

"So, I said to the Uruk Hai-"

He caught a drift of a joke Aragorn was telling, his soft melodious voice reaching him in his lust-tinged haze. He sighed again. Dropping his turkey bone on the floor, he made a mortified face. "Oops. I must get my turkey bone."

With that, he slipped under the table. All along the sides of him were men's legs, their feet and boots and their delectable thighs. It was almost too much as he gathered himself, looking for the gams that he most wanted to inspect close up. Crawling carefully, he reached Lord Elrond, mastering a nearly overpowering urge to peek under his robes.

Beside him, his legs splayed, Aragorn, of some place, sat. Using his intensely powerful Elvish eyesight, Legolas inspected the inseam of the human's finely tailored pants. They were exquisite, a delicate stitching that he was sure even *he* couldn't duplicate. His eyes traveled up and paused on the package that protruded from the front of the deliciously teal colored trousers.

/... damn ... I *love* teal .../

It was clear that Aragorn, son of someone, was packing a load. He swallowed hard, considering the ramifications of it all. Then he sniggered.

/... ramifications .../

He paused as Aragorn shifted his feet, putting one of them down on his hand. He saw stars, constellations he had never prayed to before and he sucked in his breath, tears springing into his eyes. Elrond's feet shifted and he felt them settling on his back. Obviously, the great Lord of Imladris was used to footstools.

He was still for a while and then Aragorn, son of a bitch, moved his foot off the pale and lovely fingers of the Lord of Mirkwood's youngest and most lissome boy. He stayed a moment and then Elrond sat straighter, moving his feet off Legolas' body. He quickly turned around and scurried back, picking up his turkey leg and clambering back into his chair.

He wiped tears from his eyes, dropping the bone on his plate. A dwarf sitting next to him gave him the eye and he turned, snubbing him with all the grace and expertise of a debutante.

Things were not going well for Legolas of Mirkwood.

***Even later that night ...

He stood on the balcony, peering into the darkness of the room that Aragorn, son of a guy he never heard of but had a similar name, gave himself a sponge bath. He could see the dark outline of Aragorn's body, the long lean lines of his form and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. He was falling.

Hard.

Sighing, he moved closer, pausing and arranging himself in the doorway like a vamp. He leaned against the door and silently cursed the Elvish aversion to smoking as he waited for the figure in the tin pail to turn around. He smoothed his hair back, offering his best profile. Peering out of the corner of his eyes, he met the startled gaze of Aragorn, son of a dead guy, when he turned around.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"You don't know me do you."

Aragorn looked him over and licked his suddenly dry lips.

/... no, but if I play my cards right that will change, hot pants .../

"You tell me. You rather have me at the advantage."

Legolas kept his eyes steady even as he longed to cop a look. "I do, don't I. I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, grandson of Oropher and head boy in my class at Outward Bound."

Aragorn nodded, impressed. "Nice credentials."

Legolas lowered his eyes, fastening his gaze on Aragorn's rather substantial Johnson. "You too."

At that moment, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, Chieftain of the Dunedain, Lord of the Western Lands, heir to the throne of Gondor and Arnor knew he was going to get laid.

TBC c2010


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2: Still the Prettiest *****************************

He quavered inside, so great was his longing but he held himself together, meeting the lovely deep set eyes of Aragorn, son of the last fool to try and assert himself against Mordor, the late Arathorn, levelly. His eyes, that is. It wasn't easy. His knees, reacting from habit with a mind of their own, craved to hit the floor.

"Who are you?" Legolas asked, quelling his urge to lick various things coming ever closer to him as the enigmatic man stepped out of his little tin pail and sauntered over.

"I am Arathorn, son of Aragorn." For a moment it was silent. Then he sighed. "Let me rephrase that. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"Oh. So basically you have no kingdom of your own," Legolas replied haughtily, trying not to notice that Aragorn's Johnson was poking him in the stomach, so close did they stand in the moonlight.

"I have two. I've merely misplaced them for now. How about you?" Aragorn replied, moving even closer. He paused as his dick bent against Legolas' belt buckle, causing new constellations never before prayed to, to rise in his own eyes. He cleared his throat, willing the tears in his eyes to go away. "How many kingdoms do *you* have in *your* future?"

Legolas could almost taste Aragorn, so close was his lips. Of course, that would have entailed a repeat of dinner but at this point, he didn't care. What was a shank bone among friends?

"I ... uh, I ... that is ... uh," Legolas stammered as he stared into the deep limpid pools of Aragorn's eyes. They were shimmering with the promise of days to come, of hours spent upside down braying at the moon.

He was intrigued.

"I have one."

"Your brother is the heir. You're just the spare."

"I am not!" Legolas replied indignantly. "My father promised to give me my own lands when I came of age."

"When is that, hot pants?" Aragorn whispered, licking Legolas' lips as he pressed him against the wall.

"When I remember who I am," Legolas replied before climbing up Aragorn's naked body like a chimp on a bamboo tree.

They grappled, kissing and tonguing and groping as Aragorn staggered all over the room, Legolas' ass cheeks clutched tightly in his hands. They bumped into walls, toppling things over before finding the bed and falling upon it like a big meandering sexual avalanche. Silver and green clothing flew as calloused hands made short work of Legolas' clothes.

Outside in the hallway, carrying a bottle of vintage Chablis in the folds of his robes, Glorfindel paused, listening to the monkey noises coming out of the bedroom that was always given to Aragorn, son of a man he used to shag out behind the barn as a wayward youth. Arathorn, that is. Smiling as memories of sweating and screaming and floundering around filled his mind, he shook his head and continued onward.

/... *that* nut didn't fall too far from the mallorn tree .../

With a chuckle, he slipped into the room where Elladan and Elrohir were waiting for their late night game of strip snakes and ladders. As he did, a door farther down the hall opened and a very short figure stepped out.

Gimli, son of Gloin, grandson of a buncha guys with names that rhyme slipped out and hurried down to the bedroom that he knew was given to Legolas, son of Thranduil, grandson of a whole buncha guys he really hated then and still did now. However, that was put aside as he considered his own initiative.

For far too long the relations between Dwarves and Elves was strained and tense. When he had arrived with his relatives, he had noticed the tall and pale figure of the Prince of Mirkwood as he galloped into the courtyard. He had fallen he was ashamed to admit. The idea of licking that tall popsickle had overtaken his otherwise normal Dwarvish aversion to lean white meat.

He had decided to make his own alliances, coming to the rooms of the son of Thranduil and offering his own personal take on Dwarf-Elf inter-relationships. Of course, if his father ever found out, he would kick his ass. Gimli smiled. His father was a piece of work, the homicidal old kleptomaniac.

Moving along the wall, he found the door he wanted and went inside, but not before pausing to listen to the monkey sounds emanating from the rooms of the man named Aragorn, something or other. He sighed. The youth these days. No consideration for others. He would offer to lend his ball gag to the human the very next day.

The door closed behind him.

**********Ten minutes later...

Legolas lay half off the bed, his form scored from end to end with the love bites and down right angry weals of the new man in his life. He had never been much into whips and chain mail but he found that he could be flexible under the right kind of persuasion. The human was a silvery tongued devil.

He sighed. He was in love.

Aragorn crawled out from under the bed, sighing with passion and the clear cut knowledge that his rug burn was going to chafe on his saddle the next day. He stared at the limp figure of his newest conquest and smiled.

/... piece of lembas ... heh-heh-heh .../

"So, Legolas, son of Thranduil, grandson of a whole bunch of people my own ancestors probably hated ... is that not the best sex you ever did have?"

A deep shuddering sigh wracked the limp form. "Yep."

Aragorn moved to his little tin pail and poured more water. He grinned and preened as he began to wash his privates once more.

/... score .../

**********Elsewhere ...

Elrond sat in his stone bathtub, sipping Chianti and eating donut holes as he considered the next days' meeting. Soon it would be up to the group, with their combined wisdom, to do something about the Ring that was soon to arrive on the back of a donkey.

At least that is what he thought Gandalf had told him. He said to expect a Hobbit ring bearer and a donkey ... or, maybe he meant a ring bearer and his flunkey ... he sighed. It was tough being the biggest brain in the world.

It was a lonely job. He hadn't been laid in about two thousand years. He needed a hose monkey of his very own, someone who understood him, someone who would be delighted and grateful for having on tap the experience he himself had accumulated on the golf courses and stair steppers of his youth.

Yeah, gratitude. That was the ticket. If he himself could get laid anytime soon, he *KNEW* *HE* would be grateful. He considered his options and drew the obvious conclusion. There was only one person around here that had blue enough blood and was high stepping enough of a nancy boy to accept his advances, suave or no.

That was Thranduil's rather interesting youngest boy. Besides ... it would piss the old bastard off.

He smiled and settled back, dilemma solved. Tonight, he would visit the green woods of Mirkwood's youngest sapling.

**********In Legolas' rooms ...

He sat in the chair next to the fire, smoking a rolled slab of Shire weed. It had soothed his disappointment once he found out that he was alone. He had poked around, putting a pair of monogrammed silk panties in his pocket as a souvenir for his efforts. He had to count coup, he considered, and have a trophy for the boys back at the club when he got home. They would never just take his word that he bagged Thranduil's sonny boy. After all, he had locked up numerous of his relatives once and among primate-like creatures, no one had a longer memory than Dwarves.

He would have his fun and slip out into the night, like smoke moving silently across the moor. He would leave with his trophy and tell the tale around the blazing fires of Moria, the tale of his conquest of the Ice Queen of Mirkwood.

All he needed now was that damned elf.

He sighed and sat back, his feet not touching the floor and waited for Legolas to come home.

**********A little while later...

He slipped from his rooms, his best (non)smoking jacket on and walked to the door that was Legolas'. He paused and opened it, slipping inside and walking to the bed in the pitchblack room.

/... thank goodness we have eyes that can

see in the dark ... mostly .../

Elrond smiled and slipped inside, rolling over onto a body that was naked and waiting. He smiled and then considered how short it was.

/... ah well ... not everyone is as tall as me .../

Elrond smiled and began to kiss a very hairy face. Pausing, he peered down.

"You have a lot of hair."

"And you don't," a deeper voice than Elrond expected replied.

Elrond shrugged his shoulders and began to feel around, looking for the Mirkwood Prince's gold rod. He didn't find it so he did the best he could, pounding SOMETHING in his lust crazed lustiness. By the time he lay spent like a bullet from a gun that hadn't even been invented yet, he smiled.

/... score one for Imladris ... heh-heh-heh .../

Next to him, wondering where his stogy was, another pondered his victory.

/... heh-heh-heh ... score one for Foondin, Boondin, Goondin, Art, Bart, and Fargo .../

**********Nearby ...

Hot kisses were exchanged as one wayward Elf bid adieu to one self-satisfied Man. They parted with a sigh and the door closed. As Legolas leaned against the door, covered in shadow, the door to his own rooms opened and a short figure scampered away, silk monogrammed panties in hand. Behind him, grinning like a loan shark, the Lord of Imladris slipped away.

By the time he came to his senses and began his own happy dance to the tin pail waiting for him in his room, everyone was gone from sight. Legolas, son of Thranduil was a happy boy. The bite on his hip, the hickeys on his neck, the burning in his ass and the sweat on his brow had transmuted themselves into sacred icons of his perfect love.

He would make sure that Aragorn never had a private moment again for the duration of his entire life.

Whistling a happy tune, he entered his room and the door closed, thus ending another day of diplomacy and debauchery in Rivendell.

Tbc c2010


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3: Prettier than Thou

The sun came too early as he crawled out of bed. It was time to go to the Council and help defend the world. Or some such shit. Aragorn stretched, scratching his stomach as he contemplated the hilarity of the night before. Legolas, son of Thranduil, Inc. had given it up for his benefaction.

Elbereth bless him.

He rose and walked to the basin, ducking his head into the cold water. It jolted him awake and he sighed, blowing bubbles.

**********Nearby ...

Glorfindel sighed and rose, walking stiffly to the basin nearby. Sticking his face into the water, he blew bubbles.

**********Nearby ...

Legolas rose and limped toward the basin nearby. He put it on the floor and sat in it, blowing bubbles.

**********Nearby ...

Gimli stared at the basin nearby and laughed.

**********Nearby ...

Elrond sat in his bathtub and chuckled. Everyone else had only a basin. He had a bathtub. He blew bubbles too.

**********At the dinner table ...

They sat and ate quietly, breakfast the usual fifteen course meal that it usually was, was adequate. The cholesterol count was enormous and if most of them were humans, they would be dead by now. There are some things about mortality that cannot be overlooked. Unless you're immortal.

Elrond stared when no one was looking at Legolas, remembering the wild times of the night before. He smiled, sipping his sanka as he considered the joke he had pulled off over his arch rival, Thranduil of Mirkwood et al. It wasn't everyday he had such total victory over the constipated King of Mirkwood. Of course, Thranduil wouldn't know. That sort of took some of the gloss away but you couldn't win them all.

Gimli stared at Legolas without a pause. He considered their interlude the night before. It had been more or less what he expected. Normally, when a dwarf has sex with another dwarf, there usually isn't a dish unbroken and a chair left in one piece in the room.

Fortunately for the chamber pot under the bed, they had done the horizontal mambo without too much carnage. Now they were practically engaged. He sat and calculated how much gold he would now carry home as a dowry for the nubile and clueless Prince of Mirkwood.

Aragorn sat in his chair, remembering the intense sexual interlude they had undertaken the night before that ended up in multiple organisms and rug burns on the bottom of the walk-in closet. He had climbed a sexual Everest on the backside of the slinky blond from Mirkwood and he found himself bearing a proprietary interest in Legolas, especially since everyone was eying him when they thought he wasn't looking.

It was ticking him off big time.

Glorfindel nursed a hangover as he considered the losing hand of snakes and ladders he had played with the slightly slutty Sons of Elrond. They had cheated and he let them. He let them amuse themselves with his body parts but drew the line at piercing his foreskin. He had standards below which he wouldn't fall and even though it would have been romantic, he didn't want them to feel he was easy.

Boromir, late arrived from Gondor watched everyone watch Legolas and decided he wanted him too. No one would ever be able to say he wasn't a team player.

The bell rang once and all rose, walking to the council area where the talks would begin. As they did, they greeted Gandalf and spied four little short guys with hairy feet standing behind him, staring up at all the arrivals with big, innocent eyes.

/... good grief ... what now? ... this is bad enough without bringing Gandalf's illegitimate children along ... I *must* draw the line .../ - Aragorn, sulking to his chair where he would sit and wait to be insulted by the son of the pretender to his throne ... *his* throne, not Denethor or Boromir's throne. HIS! HISHISHISHISHIS!

/... good grief ... what hairy feet they have ... that is like so ten minutes ago ... SNIFF! .../ - Legolas, swishing to a seat with three other Elves, all ethereal and as asexual-looking as you could get and still claim a gender.

/... Elbereth ... I must be more hungover than I thought ... I think I just saw four hairy-footed short people ... I think I'm in love .../ -Glorfindel, limping to a seat with barf bag in hand.

/... Damn! ... Are those guys the right height or *what*? .../ - Elrond, moving with great stately outwardness toward his chair while his inwardness is filled with nasty thoughts of deviant sexual practices.

Aragorn sat down staring around the circle as Boromir sauntered in, swinging his casual smoldering sexual intensity around like an incense lamp in a cathedral. Of course, it really wasn't like that because Christianity isn't even remotely a direct allusion, but rather an indirect underlying theme as represented by the allegorical events such as life, death and redemption ... like that ... uh, what were we talking about? The hotness that is Boromir ... ah! Right. He sat down and women within forty miles had to change their underwear.

Elrond rose, gathering his dignity about him. Most of the men in the room wanted him at that very moment but didn't act on their impulse since they were representing their countries and it wouldn't look good to be too easy this early on in the talks.

"Friends, relatives, acquaintances, kings, countrymen, second cousins, strangers, really intimate partners in projects that failed due to a lack of adequate venture capital, illegitimate children, former lovers, exiled leaders of small Caribbean dictatorships, vendors, high jump champions, and Boromir, I welcome you to Imladris. We come together over bad times. Frankly, I am just pleased you showed up. I get such a rush from this power thing I nearly wet my pants. Aragorn doesn't know what that feels like and I hope he never does. If he does I have to give him my only daughter and she has to give up her immortality and live with him until he lies down on a pyre and gives up his spirit for the good of his people before he gets old and feeble and they have to smother him with a pillow."

/... what the fuck? .../ - Aragorn

"I give you, Gandalf."

A round of applause went up and Gandalf did fifteen minutes of stand up before introducing the Ring Bearer, his oldest illegitimate child, Frodo Baggins, the son and nephew of his current lover, Bilbo. Or, at least Glorfindel thought so. After all, he was hung over and only functioning on two cylinders.

He stood in a shaft of light that beamed down from heaven. Frodo, not Glorfindel. He had huge blue eyes, a small slender body, curly black hair, Elven ears and pale skin. Everyman in the area wanted to do him but didn't since it was too close to pedophilia for them to admit to anyone but Dear Abby or their diaries.

They all sighed as one.

"I have the Ring."

"Show the Ring, Frodo," Elrond said, wiping the spittle off his chin.

He walked over, all trembling and waif-like. Every man in the area shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as they lay their cloaks over their laps. He set it down and limped back to his seat. On Gandalf's lap.

"Well, there you have it," Elrond said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He sat down and put both legs over the arm of his chair. "One of you wankers has to toss it into the fire of Mount Doom. I *tried* to all ready and you men ... you *men* sabotaged me. I am like so annoyed I forbid any Elf to do it. So, Aragorn and Boromir and you old guys who aren't named in the movie or the book but have seats here in the Council ... who will do it?"

It was quiet a moment and then Gimli sighed. "Well, I don't want the nancing Elves to have it. Of course, I could make an exception if you give me Legolas. I will take him and ditch the Ring for you."

"You *won't*!" Elrond said, jumping up. His sons looked at each other and sighed. "Legolas is not yours."

"Oh yeah?" Gimli said, craning his neck way up to glare at Elrond's face, which seemed way the hell up there among the clouds.

"Yeah," Elrond said, leaning way down and glaring eyeball to eyeball with the little wanker.

Legolas watched them, secretly pleased that really rich and powerful men were fighting over him. Of course, he *belonged* to Aragorn. But it never hurt to have outside interests. He stood smiling and taking bets on who would win any fisticuffs.

"I will take the Ring!"

Frodo Baggins shouted over and over, telling all the disinterested people that he would take the Ring himself although he didn't know the way. Boromir, annoyed at last, took Frodo and stuffed him face down in a trashcan, rejoining the shouting match.

Gandalf, irritated over the indignity of his son being stuffed in a trashcan turned everyone into toads and had a smoke. When he was done, he undid his ungodly and slightly amoral spell, noting an absence of flies around the chamber for the rest of the meeting.

When it was all over but the shouting, it was decided that Frodo would take the Ring.

"I will help you, Frodo," Gandalf said.

"Thanks, Dad," Frodo replied, hugging his dad and bringing a contented smile to his face.

The pervert.

Aragorn, overcome with the moment rose and walked forward. "If by my life and death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword."

/... oh my god! ... do something! .../ Legolas rose. "And you have my bow."

/... oh crap! .../ "And my ax."

Legolas rolled his eyes. Gimli put his hand on Legolas' butt. Legolas looked down and quelled his desire to kick the dwarf in the nuts. After all, they were allies now.

/... Well, isn't *this* just ducky! .../ Boromir rose and glared at Aragorn, the usurper to the throne that they had usurped. "Well, if that is the way you're going to act, then count me in. If that is what you're going to do, Gondor will see it through." He turned to Aragorn. "My Gondor."

Aragorn shot him death stares.

Elrond, drunk with sorrow over losing Legolas, staggered to his feet. "Well, isn't *this* a find how-do-you-do?" He sighed and bent to the popular will. "Alright. Go. Do your thing. But be home by eleven."

With that, the Fellowship of the Ring was born.

Probably.

TBC c2010


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4: I Feel Pretty

They walked along the animal track, each one behind the other. Gimli smiled. He was behind Legolas' behind. And ... what a fine behind it was. He chuckled in his dwarfish way, you know ... that sort of demented google-eyed thing that they have that makes you want to go and brush your teeth? That way.

Legolas walked behind Frodo, noting that the little guy had a pretty nice kiester. Of course, that was sort of like pedophilia and so he put it out of his mind, concentrating instead on the fine booty of his baby, the redoubtable Aragorn, no doubt.

Visions of getting it in the butt, hunched over on his hands and knees filled his mind and he considered where he was going to register. There was no Bloomingdales and Tiffany's was just a gleam in someone's eyes. He thought and thought, no small task for someone so pretty who didn't care for wrinkles and settled on raiding his mom's jewelry box when she wasn't looking. With a smile and skip in his step, he continued on his way.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, brought up the rear, affording him fine views of everyone's behind. He considered Boromir to be on his to-do list, that is, after he had done Legolas a few more times. He thought back to their leaving and dark thoughts once more entered his mind ...

Elves had gathered, including Lord Elrond, master of all they stood around in. He had pulled Legolas to one side and they had disappeared into a nearby alcove. For a moment, it was silent and then a loud slap could be heard. Aragorn drew his sword, guessing that orcs had somehow infiltrated the ironclad security of Imladris and slapped the face of its lord. Or something.

Legolas stepped out, mildly indignant and walked back to the jackass that would carry most of their load. Sam smiled at him as Legolas joined him.

Elrond stepped out of the shadows, a perfect hand imprint on his face. He glared at Aragorn and stalked past him, waving them to go post haste.

They did.

For a while, it was silent on the trail and then Aragorn pulled Legolas to his side as they walked along. He got dagger stares from Gimli, Boromir, and Pippin.

"What was that all about with Lefty?"

Legolas humphed. "He tried to put his hand in my pants."

Aragorn drew his sword. "He did?"

"Yeah," Legolas snitted. "But don't worry, sugar ... I slapped his face."

"You *did*?"

"Sure. My heart belongs to you." Legolas shot him a loving look. Four fellows of their little clique made mental plans to assassinate the pretender king of Gondor. "I only put out for you, baby."

With that, he flounced back in line. Aragorn watched him go, noting his ass looked as fine in the daylight as it did in the dark, and he sighed.

/... next thing you know, he'll be registering with some big department store ... if they existed ... I'm screwed .../

Aragorn gritted his teeth and they moved on.

**********Darkness on the trail ...

They found sleeping spots in the shadows around the fire. Everyone turned in and it was dark, Boromir drawing the short straw for watch. He stood in the dark, cursing his luck and watching for bad guys when he heard footsteps in the camp. He instantly became on guard and listened.

STEP! STEP! STEP!

"... psst!... Legolas ... this is your sugar daddy

..."

"... zzzz ... Aragorn?"

Pause.

"... hell no! ... think smaller ..."

"Frodo! Come on in!"

Pause.

"You bastard."

"Who are you?"

"It's me, your one true love."

"Haldir? Are you here? I thought you were shagging Celeborn behind Galadrial's back."

"He is?"

"You are. Is that you, Haldir? How did you get here? Come into my mummy bag, you wench. Do me."

Pause. Huge dwarvish grin.

"Sure."

Sound of body entering sleeping bag. Lots of rustling around as they begin to shag. Pause.

"How come you're so hairy?"

"Hormone problem."

Shagging sounds. Pause.

"How come you're so short?"

"Had an accident."

Shagging sounds. Pause.

"How come you don't have a dick?"

Pause.

"You aren't Haldir. You aren't Aragorn. You aren't a man. Who are you?"

(Sounds of body slipping out of a sleeping bag and scurrying away.) Tall blond babe sits up and squints into darkness with incredible sight even dogs can't duplicate.

"Who was that short, hairy bastard?"

Legolas lay back down and sighed. Boromir watched and listened, sighing. Nearby, sighing himself, Aragorn watched with semi-attached lucidity. He lifted his blanket and looked down, meeting the gaze of big blue eyes. Sighing, he lowered the blanket and settled back, a big grin on his face.

/... yes siree ... they *are* the right height .../

**********The next morning ...

Everyone got ready but no one could meet the others eyes. Except Frodo, who followed Aragorn around like a puppy dog. Sam, sprouting jealousy the way potatoes sprout eyes, made a mental note to kill him. Aragorn, that is.

They began to move on, Gandalf limping along at the front. He was slow of course and they all knew they would be a lot older by the time they reached Mordor but they didn't care. They had Legolas.

Boromir sighed and looked at the glinting blond hair of his newest obsession. He patted his horn, considering his usual pickup line that never failed...

/... so, baby ... wanna blow me ... my horn that is ... heh-heh-heh .../

Few failed to take up his offer. Some even showed musical aptitude. This ditzy blond bombshell would be no exception, he confidently considered. He would see tonight what sort of embouchure this baby had. Given his etherealness and the constant state of arousal the entire troop appeared to be in because of him, Boromir was sure Legolas could crack walnuts with his tongue.

They moved on and the sky remained clear as they walked ever closer to doom. The mountain that is.

**********Miscellaneous thoughts on the trail ...

/... god, my feet hurt .../ -Gandalf.

/... they don't know about elevensies, they don't know about elevensies ... they don't .../ -Pippin.

/... I'm in love ... I'm in love with a really tall guy ... I wonder what my Dad would think if I told him ... he'd turn Aragorn into a toad again ... I better not tell him ... we'll elope ... we'll run away and make a life together ... he can be king of something and I'll be his queen ... I'll have a sex change and have his babies ... they'll be tall like him and sort of girlie pretty like me ... I'll be his slave and cook and clean and do him under the table at Thanksgiving ... I am the right height ... I'll even give up my incestuous relationship with Pippin ... of course, I'll have to kill Sam ... oh well ... who said the course of true love ever ran smoothly? .../ -Frodo.

/... I will build a new treasury to hold his dowry. My father won't like it at first but he'll get over it. It will be handy having a tall person around. He can get the stuff off the top shelf .../ -Gimli.

/... my feet hurt .../ -Bill the Pony.

/... I wonder where Frodo went last night? ... I didn't see him for a while ... he came back though with a big grin ... he mustn't be constipated any longer ... good for you, Mr. Frodo! ... I wish I could shag him. That might help the constipation ... SIGH! ... I sure do fancy him ... too bad I'm not in his social class ... I'm going to have to kill my old man for not being rich .../ -Sam.

/... I don't know who I would do first, there are so many good looking men here... Frodo is hot ... I wonder if Aragorn is doing him ... Gandalf would kill him ... if he is, I will too ... I am the next king of Gondor ... if he's doing Frodo, he's doing what is mine ... even if he isn't ... my head hurts ... greed is a terrible business ... I want Legolas, Frodo, Aragorn, Gandalf, Pippin, Merry, Pippin again, Legolas upside down in a tree, Aragorn on his knees begging for it, Haldir if he was here, my brother if I'm drunk enough ... hell, if I'm drunk enough, I'll even have Bill the Pony .../ -Boromir.

"Behold! Caradhas!"

"Crap, Gandalf ... do we have to go over that?" - Gimli. "What about the friggin' mines of Moria?"

"I don't want to be cold. My feet will get cold, Dad." -hobbit/maiar hybrids, whining.

"Do you think its wise? I mean, there isn't a hair dresser for miles." -Legolas.

"Wherever you want to go, Gandalf, I'll go but I'll bitch and whine the whole way and when we turn back, I'll say I told you so."

/... my feet hurt .../ -Bill the Pony.

"I'll go and I won't whine. Much. I think the way should be near to Isengard so that Saruman can see us and really kick our butts but don't listen to me. *NOOOOOOOO*! I'm only the son of the Steward King of Gondor." shoots devil rays at Aragorn

"Bite me, Boromir." -Aragorn.

Suddenly time stands still and the clouds open, light beams striking the two of them. They come together and suck face with such intensity that neither have crows feet ever again. Then they step back, chests heaving.

They are in love.

The dynamic of the whole thing is changed.

Again.

Elbereth is rolling on the floor laughing.

Tbc c2010


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5: Pretty is as Pretty Does

Narrative interlude ...

It may come as no surprise that the Valar have taken a direct hand in the outcome of the events that would affect the people of Middle Earth for ever and ever, amen.

Of course, there are historical precedents for such things happening. The Greek Gods intervened in the affairs of man. The next time you see a spider, you can know that if one of them hadn't been such a jealous bitch, you wouldn't have to shake your shoes out before you put them on.

The Valar are divine, worshiped by the masses and given to greatness even if occasionally accidentally. Of course, they would have off days. As it stood, on this occasion, it was a slow day in the undying lands and Elbereth was looking into her crystal pool, checking out the comings and goings of the lesser but much loved beings that populated Middle Earth.

"What are you doing?" Manwe asked, glancing up from the game on the tube to where his wife stood, transfixed by the view on her own rather archaic receiver.

"I'm looking at my darling elves, my lovely, darling elves."

"Oh," Manwe said, turning back to the Detroit-Chicago game. "You aren't going to meddle again, are you?"

She glanced up, a slight frown on her perfect features. "I don't meddle. I facilitate."

Manwe nodded, sipping his beer. "Right. The last time you meddled, the Dunedain needed a boat."

"You are never going to let that one go," she sulked, staring once again at the companions as they trudged along the trail. "I want to help my creations. I want to make sure they have all the love and happiness they can handle."

"Iluvatar help us now," Manwe mumbled as he watched the Detroit quarterback get flattened once more.

**********On the trail...

Boromir and Aragorn walked at the end, pausing where they could to french and grope and fondle each other when no one was looking. It didn't matter that they were rivals, that Boromir was a pretender to the throne that belonged to Aragorn ... they were in lust and all that mattered was the Big O.

By the time they stopped for the night, they had made plans to go into the woods and shag in earnest. They dawdled over dinner, arguing over who would get guard duty. Frodo got the short straw but was overruled by Boromir on the grounds that he wouldn't be tall enough to see trouble coming if it bit him on his rather shapely ass.

Frodo sulked as Boromir and Aragorn arranged for guard duty, moving into the darkness until they were not seen by anyone. The others pouted, thwarted in their horniness but went to bed as instructed by Da-, that is, Gandalf.

Soon it was quiet.

"Psst."

Aragorn turned. "Boromir?"

"Over here."

Aragorn tip-toed over and found himself sucking face with a very happy Boromir. He gasped. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"I want to do you. Turn around."

"Why me? Why not you? *You* turn around."

"I can't."

"You can't? What do you mean you can't turn around?"

Aragorn sighed. "Because I'm a top."

Pause.

"So am I."

Pause. "Don't take this the wrong way but you can't be a top."

"Why not? Why can't I be a top, Aragorn?"

"Because I'm a top and there can't be two tops. Two tops don't make a bottom."

Pause.

"I want to be on top."

"You can't be, Boromir. You can't be on top because I'm a Chieftain of the Dunedain and how can I go to Dunedain stuff knowing that I bottomed?"

Pause.

"How can I look my old man in the eye and know that I took it up the behind from the Heir of Isildur?"

"That's easy. Just ask Elrond next time you see him."

"Elrond?"

"Sure. Who was the first person who got screwed by Isildur?"

"Ah ... Elrond. Okay."

Boromir turned and after a moment or two of fumbling, they began the forbidden dance of love.

**********Nearby ...

Lying on the hard ground, Sam's arm nearly strangling him as it was draped over his body, Frodo daydreamed of having wild monkey sex with Aragorn once more. It was nice and quiet, but for the strange animal noises coming out of the woods but that didn't distract him from his happy reverie.

/... this must be what elves have when they lay around and daydream .../ He sighed. /... Aragorn, Aragorn ... I hardly knew ye ... *where are you*? .../

Pippin snored, Merry lying quietly beside him. He considered Frodo, the odd way he was walking around mooning over the tall Numenorean male, Aragorn. It was unnatural, wanting a person more than twice your height. Aragorn was certainly comely enough but he was just too tall. The idea of riding Aragorn's pony made him cringe. No way would he be able to do it and he was taller than Frodo.

He glanced at Frodo, watching the handsome hobbit as he lay daydreaming. Frodo was really gone. He wondered if Sam knew? Maybe he would tell him in the morning ...

**********The next morning ...

"!*WHAT*!"

"Now, Sam ... you *promised* you wouldn't get all riled up," Merry said, peering over his shoulder to see if any one else was aware of Sam's distress.

"I promised but I don't have to *keep* it," Sam hissed. He glared at Aragorn, who was sitting and polishing his sword. His steel one that is. "I am going to *kill* him!"

Merry sighed and turned, picking up his pack. Dad had called them to go and he made his way forward, preferring to walk alongside of Gandalf, rather than wade in the rage pool that surrounded Sam Gamgee.

Frodo walked along oblivious to anything but his emerging feelings for Aragorn.

**********Later on the trail...

Aragorn turned, looking around to see who had pitched a stone at him. The hobbits, but for Sam and Bill, were ahead of him, as was everyone else. From the look of deep innocence on Sam's face, he couldn't conceive of the hobbit being the guilty party.

Someone was throwing stones at him and he was concerned. He turned and continued on, worry nagging at him as he walked.

/... I would worry, you ... you ... *tall guy*! ... you think Mr. Frodo is a grape ripe for plucking ... all that sweet juice yours to drink ... all that pure ripe flesh ... that virginity that cries out for taking ... that ... that .../

"Gandalf?"

Gandalf stopped and stared back. "What, Sam?"

"I gotta stop for a second."

Gandalf sighed and nodded and they all paused as Sam ducked behind a rock and whacked off. By the time he was done, the sun was hot overhead. Everyone watched him pick up his pack and turn, shooting dark looks at Aragorn. Frodo walked back and smiled up at Aragorn.

"My feet hurt," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Let me carry you, Frodo. I promised to go with you, to the very fires of Mordor," Aragorn said, picking up the little hobbit. He settled Frodo on his shoulders, holding on to his little hobbit ankles.

Frodo sighed, considering how much fun it would be to bounce his crotch against Aragorn's head for the next fifty miles. As they began to walk on, Sam sputtered and muttered behind them.

/... to the fires of Mordor, *Frodo* ... fuck that! ... he's mine .../

**********Later that night ...

Frodo crept out of his blankets and sidled up to where Aragorn slept on the ground. Peering around, he crept into Aragorn's blankets, settling down around where his belly button was. He sighed, contented. Aragorn's eyes flew open as he felt small hands touching large things. Then he smiled and sighed, relaxing.

Sam watched, his mind in a whirl and sent prayers to Elbereth that he would be able to kill Aragorn soon.

Boromir paced on duty, his butt stinging from the frivolity of the night before. He sighed. The man was hot. He could pretend he was a bottom for a while. That is, as long as his bottom held out.

Gandalf smoked his pipe, noting his illegitimate children running around in the dark. He was worried about their morals, their proclivities to perform oral sex on complete strangers but he decided they would have to walk their own path. After all, he and the missus, Bilbo, had long ago decided that they had to learn to be independent. Prostitution was a good second career if the need for accountants wasn't there.

Legolas lay on his back, staring at the stars. He had counted at least 72,000 of them before he hiccuped and lost his place. Aragorn was lying over on the other side of the fire. He hadn't shagged him nor had he been shagged in a while. He was deeply and irretrievably in love with the shaggy-haired hottie and he had to do something to prove his undying love.

Maybe he would make him jealous by flirting with the dwarf. That was the ticket. He would make Aragorn jealous. Now ... what kind of pick up lines do you use with a dwarf?

/... Hi down there. How is the ... what? ... Sigh ... This was going to be hard ... thank Elbereth I'm pretty.../

Merry and Pippin snored as nearby, standing with a stoic expression on his long face, Bill the Pony kept vigil. He sighed in a very horsy way.

/... how the hell do I get in a chicken outfit like this? .../

*********Back in the Undying Lands ...

"You really have tossed a spanner in the works now. The elf is going to shag the dwarf to make the man jealous. The hobbit is going to shag the man who is going to get killed by the other hobbit. Then the wizard is going to find out the man is shagging his son and there will be a shotgun wedding, which will break the heart of the elf and the other man, whom you have twisted into being with the man they all seem to fancy." Manwe sighed. "My head hurts."

Elbereth smiled. "They aren't even to Moria yet."

"Gollum. I forgot about Gollum. Where does he fit in?"

"Wherever he wants, my darling King," Elbereth said with a smirk. "Wherever the little warthog wants."


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6: Handsome is as Handsome Does ***************************

They had arrived at the slope that would take them to the top of the mountain and down the other side again. It was one slippery slope and the men took turns acting as slide breaks for falling hobbits.

Frodo in particular made a point of slipping and falling, sighing with pleasure as Aragorn caught him on the way back down. Of course, Aragorn had no idea he was being manipulated by a little man head over heels in love. He just knew that they needed the hobbit to do all the really terrible stuff. If Frodo didn't take the Ring, someone else in the group would have to take it, get beaten, end up naked with Sam and generally lose a finger at some point.

Aragorn decided at the outset that it wouldn't be him. He had to contemplate eventually lying down and dying before his time. *That* was bad enough. There was only so much nobility in his rapidly thinning bloodline.

"Thanks, Aragorn, for saving me. Again."

Frodo smiled and looked up, sighing with HUGE deep and abiding affection at the ruggedly handsome but slightly ripe smelling object of his deep and abiding fantasies. As he did, he realized his Ring was gone and he turned, watching as Boromir picked it up, staring at it as his eyes twirled in circles.

"Whoa!" he said, his Gondorian accent rather endearing. That it sounded like something from the midlands of England, one of those 0y-boy sorts of football hooligan 'gimme a beer, mate', bloke sort of voices, was a coincidence. Maybe. "Well, wouldya looka this?"

Frodo felt his face crumple in that 'damn, I'm so cute, do me now" expressions that make pre-teen girls hearts go flutter. He felt tears come to his eyes as he contemplated losing the only thing that really was his. After all, he grew up four to the bed in a little hobbit hole where he lived with his mother, Bilbo.

Dad never gave him anything of his own. He was too busy circuit riding and preaching the gospel. HE had to stay home and hoe potatoes. HE had to stay home and help his mother raise the younger ones, Merry, Pippin and Ferdie, the one they kept locked up in root cellar.

HE never got to have anything of his own.

HE never got to sleep alone. Until now. Sometimes. *And* the sex was consensual. Finally.

HE wanted THE DAMNED RING BACK! NOW! RIGHT NOW!

"Sniffle. He has my Ring," Frodo said, to the accompaniment of a chorus of 'ahhhhhhhs' from all present.

"Boromir!" Aragorn said, suddenly filled with fatherly concern for the little kid he carried on his shoulders for fifty miles and ten orgasms. "Give Frodo the Ring!"

Boromir glared at him, suddenly influenced for evil. "OR WHAT!"

"I'll cut off your nuts."

Boromir gave Frodo back the Ring.

Everyone went, 'whew' and they began again.

/... what a bitch ... just for that, *I'm* on top tonight .../ -Boromir.

/... Wow! Aragorn is like *so* strong! ... I must do him tonight!.../ -Frodo.

/... Aragorn must die! Aragorn must die! AragornMustDie!.../ - Sam.

/... Snivel ... why won't he do *me*? ... I must make him jealous ... let me see ... how do you say 'nice tits' in Dwarvish? .../ -Legolas, still the prettiest ...

/... I must get these kids home and into Harvard... their mother will kill me ... god, I have such an *ugly* wife ... Sigh! .../ -Gandalf.

They continued on and by the time they decided to turn back from Caradhas, Aragorn had ragged Gandalf half to death.

"Didn't I tell you so? I told you back when. I would go with you but I would bitch and then when we left, I would tell you so-"

For a moment he stood and then there was a crack of thunder. Where Aragorn once stood, a donkey was now. Sam grinned and threw his load onto the donkey's back.

"Thanks, Gandalf," he said, jerking on the halter that was around Aragorn's suddenly jackassy face.

"Don't mention it," Gandalf said, sighing as he turned to lead them back.

"Gandalf! You can't leave him that way! What about my love life? How will I ever clear up the acne on my butt?" Legolas asked, prancing after their leader.

/... I'll show you how, you winsome little wench-ling you .../ -Gimli.

/... eeeeeuuuuwwwwwwwwww .../ -hobbit/maiar boy-lets.

/... sigh ... only on your ass? .../ -Boromir.

/... I WILL KILL YOU, YOU FUCKERS! .../ -Aragorn, braying his discontent to the gods. Who were too busy laughing to care. Much.

**********Outside the door of Moria...

Narrative interlude: Note that we are not moving through time in a strictly linear way. We have left out a lot of stuff which I will now list for your edification:

1. Aragorn being turned from a donkey back into a jackass.

2. Sam's smoldering dislike of number one.

3. Legolas discussing the merits of aloe vera with Gimli, their first REAL conversation during the whole trip.

4. Boromir pulling Aragorn out of a MAJOR sulk by being a bottom. AGAIN.

5. Merry and Pippin eating everything they see and needing their stomachs pumped.

6. Sam jumping on Merry and Pippin when they realize they don't have a stomach pump.

7. Bill the Pony pooping on Boromir's shoes, thus weighing in on whom he wants to see die in the segment after the Argonaths.

8. Boromir kicking Bill the Pony in the ass for pooping on his boots and getting his foot stuck.

9. Aragorn being turned back into a donkey when Bill goes on strike after losing a game of Scissors, Paper and Rock with Gandalf.

10. Sam's huge hilarity at watching Aragorn be a jackass donkey again.

11. Sam removing a donkey foot from his rectum.

There is more but those are the highlights. Now on to Moria...

"Open, you bitch!"

"Gandalf, I don't think that's the right password," Gimli replied, braiding his nose hairs in a pathetic attempt to win Legolas' favor.

Gandalf sighed and eyed Gimli closely. "Gimli, are you carrying things in your tunic or are you pregnant?"

Gimli swallowed hard and grumbled. "What an insult."

"Sorry. I just can't get this open."

Frodo came over and shook his head, considering how many more good days he had before his old man became completely senile.

"It's easy, you old gas bag. Say, 'friend' and enter."

"Really? *You* say it then, you little waste of sperm!" Gandalf replied, nearly biting his oldest and most impossibly sexy son.

"Okay," Frodo replied with a grin.

"FFFFFRRRRIIEEEENNDDD!"

The damned door opened so fast, it squashed Bill the Pony. Everyone mourned a second or two, especially Aragorn. That meant he was the lone jackass in the group.

"Let's go. There's something in the pon-" Frodo screamed and was hauled off, flying around like a UFO on speed.

The others shot, stabbed and generally had a great time before they staggered into the place and the door closed. For a moment it was really dark and then Gandalf said, "Not to worry. I'll supply light."

He fiddled with his staff and nothing happened. So he grabbed his walking stick and lit up the place.

/... damn... I'm going to have to get some viagra... the old ball-and-chain was right .../ Gandalf considered as they looked around.

Dead things were everywhere. Boromir began to sob, New Age Old Age man that he was and Legolas looked grim, but great. Aragorn prepared for battle right away. You could say he took the bit in his mouth. SNICKER! The hobbits climbed into Gandalf's pockets and Gimli stood poised, doing Scotsman impressions.

"HOOTS, MON! THERE BE HAGGIS HERE!" he cried, drawing up his ax.

Then the orcs came.

Tbc c2010


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7: Ellie and Mannie do Moria *************************

In the big house on the hill in the Undying Lands ...

"You know, Ellie, this meddling can be fun."

"I know," Elbereth said, smiling at her husband of a few trillion eons. "Why do you think I do it?"

"Because you're a perverse bitch?" he asked, deep admiration shining in his non-human eyes.

"Bingo!"

He turned and looked into her mirror. "Let's change this shall we? Get rid of the orcs and add our man, Tom ..."

**********In the Mines of Moria (tm) ...

"HOOTS, MON! THERE BE HAGGIS HERE!" Gimli cried, drawing up his ax.

Then the orcs came.

Then they went.

Everyone blinked. Especially Gollum. Who came early because he heard there would be flies.

"What be goin' on in 'ere?"

A strange voice followed by a stranger figure entered the picture.

"Tom Bombadil! What are you doing in the Mines of Moria (tm)?" Gandalf roared, surprised.

"THERE BE HAGGIS HERE!" Tom responded, feeling up the backside of Pippin's calf, like the perverted, twisted apparition that he was.

"You like haggis too?" Gimli asked, smiling in deep love with the gap-toothed reject from a Deliverance movie.

"No. I just ended up here because the gods have stepped in."

"The Gods! The Valar! They want us to succeed?"

Boromir asked, clutching his sword in his big, big hands.

"No. They're just bored." Tom grinned. "You haven't seen my old lady around here, have you. Golden- something or other I think it is. It's really hard being older than Treebeard. I have to tell you, I forget stuff. Like most of the last two ages."

"That's okay," Aragorn assured him. "I would love to join you."

"Where?" Bombadil asked, his senile dementia and hillbilly cluelessness taking over where his brain used to be.

"We have to destroy a Ring of Power, Tom. Can you help us?" Legolas asked.

"No, but I wouldn't mind shagging you, blondie. You are one really built babe. For a boy."

Legolas preened and blushed every *just so* and everyone around him sharpened their daggers. Metaphorically.

"I'm spoken for but thanks."

"Yeah? Good for you. So ... are you getting any? The old lady has been gone so long the billy goats are starting to look good."

"Goats?" -hobbit/maiar hybrid boy-lets getting tips for getting through puberty. When it comes.

"We don't have time for this. We have to go," Gandalf said. "We have to crawl through these tunnels for four days, stay ahead of Gollum, poop in the dark corners of the world, sleep on stone, eat cracked corn and drink our own pee, have furtive sex when we can, preferably not with my boys, at least until their infections clear up, and then I have to fall into the abyss after roasting my weinie against the Balrog."

"Balrog?" -everyone.

/... INFECTIONS? .../ -only the pervie hobbit fanciers.

/... drink our own pee! ... great! .../ -Gimli

"See ya," Gandalf said, turning and leaving the area, group in tow.

They walked on for days and days, stopping when they had to. Sex slowed down, everyone smelled too bad, and so they merely sat and made longing stares and big eyes at each other which would have been neat if it hadn't been pitch dark most of the time and impossible to see anything.

insert intake of air here -narrator

By the time they reached the crypt of Gimli's baleful, battered and battened-down relative, Balin (or something) they were ready to bit the head off of bats. It is rumored that Merry did.

"Ptooie!"

"MERRY! IS THAT YOU AGAIN!" -Gandalf

"NO, DAD ... IT'S PIPPIN!" -Merry

"LIAR!" -Pippin

"LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE

!" -Merry

"SHAME, SHAME, WE KNOW YOUR NAME!" -Pippin

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" -Boromir

huge sulk ensues

"Well, this is the place where we lose our marbles and things go downhill," Gandalf said.

"How do you know? Is it some kind of maiar or elf magic that lets you know about things in advance?" Boromir asked, keenly interested.

"No," Gandalf said, sighing. "I bought the comic."

"Oh." Boromir sighed. He would never understand the ways of Istari. They were just too inscrutable.

"Here's what I want you to do. We'll fight it out here and Boromir gets the best line," Gandalf began. "Then we run like hell for the bridge of Khazad-Dum and teeter there for a while. Then a balrog will come, Legolas will look scared and *hot* at the same time, I will fight him, the balrog that is, and win immortality and the same kind of kamikaze danger chicks that chase after Glorfindel," he said, turning to his kids. "Whatever you do, don't tell your mother."

They shook their head in unison.

/... fat chance .../ -four hobbit/maiar boy-lets.

"Then, I will fall in and die and come back in better threads. All you have to do is get out, fall on the ground and cry a lot and then Aragorn, you get to be the head cheese and kick everyone around."

"Why not me? My old man is the Steward King of Gondor." Boromir shot daggers at Aragorn even as he wanted him, lust burning in his gut like acid indigestion. Considering they only had moldy lembas and cave crickets to eat for three days that was a real possibility. At least his own pee agreed with him.

"You aren't going to be the King of Gondor. You will bite it after the Argonaths. Get over it, *Boromir*," Gandalf said, spitting put his venom and his upper plate at the same time.

"Okay," Boromir replied congenially as he stepped on Gandalf's teeth 'accidentally'.

"Wew ... whadda heww?" Gandalf said, picking up his crushed upper plate.

"Dad said, 'well ... what the hell?'," Frodo said, ever helpful.

His father slapped him on the back of his head. "Shudda fuww umph!"

Frodo rubbed his head and sulked. /... cry over you, *old man*? ... fat chance .../

They moved on, fought like cats in heat, bagged *A Cave Troll*! there. you wanted to say it too and ran away, chased by ten million orc cockroaches and a big blistering balrog.

It all came to pass. Legolas fell into fear, only to be rescued by nursing a while on Aragorn's breast. Gimli nearly had a miscarriage. Frodo wept and cried and mourned his Dad. For two seconds, before whipping out a ciggie and having a Guinness in his memory. If they had any.

Guinness that is.

Merry and Pippin argued over who would have the gold out of their Dad's upper plate. Boromir put his hand down Frodo's pants as he carried him off to safety. Frodo fell in love with him instead, leaving long-time lover Aragorn, son of Arathorn and a bunch of other dead guys without a decent blow job for three daze until he found his center once more and came crawling back.

Mourning a father isn't easy.

Let's see. Legolas wandered around in a haze and then got it together because he was ***GOING TO SEE THE BIG TREES***! And his former, current and ever to be lover, Haldir and the entire guard of Lothlorien. That doesn't even count the sort-of incest with Celeborn and the strip poker on Friday nights with the exile community from Mirkwood, the Macaroni Boys and Sue.

***Manwe: "You made that up."

Elbereth: "I didn't. The idiot writing this did."

Manwe: "Ah. I thought so. You turn a better phrase than that."

E: "You think so?"

M: "Sure, baby."

E: "Let's have sex. It's been thirty quazillion years."

M: "After the game."

E and kitchen utensil: "BONG!"

Middle Earth ...

They lay on solid rocks, sobbing. With relief. That they were rid of the old bastard for a while. Now they could fornicate, drink, smoke, and generally raise hell. That is, if Mom didn't show up. Bilbo was a bigger fudd than their dad.

Sigh.

It isn't easy being pretty, Frodo said to himself.

/... you can say *that* again, you little tart .../ -Legolas, listening in.

Tbc c2010


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8: Hey! Hey! Good Lookin'!

PSS::::: EDITORIAL NOTE: THIS INDICATES ELVISH SPEECH:

{{{Buncha words and punctuation.}}}

They rolled around on the ground for a while pretending to be sad. Legolas staggered around, looking delightfully rumpled. Sexual deprivation in Elf males does that to one. -Kinsey Enorian Lothlorien, Sexologist and self abuser in the name of science ... cough ...

"Legolas! Get them up!"

"I only *got* one!"

"Not *that*! The little ones!"

/... sniffle! ... *size queen*! .../ -Legolas

"But Aragorn ... *let* *them* *grieve*! It *was* their *dad*!" Boromir said, ruffled and grieving himself because he had come late to life on a fetish he would never, ever indulge now ... doing hairy-faced old guys with big staffs ... stah-ves ... you know ... big wood ... SNICKER! ... Sorry ...

"No, Boromir! /... darling .../ By nightfall these hills will be *crawling* with orcs! We have to make it to Lothlorien!"

"Not the woods of the Witch!" Gimli said, barely getting his gut off the ground. "She will turn us into turnips!"

"You look like one already, Gimli," Legolas said smugly, *more* than aware that his own svelte figure reflected the 2,000 stomach crunches he did every morning.

"OOOOooooOOOOOooooOOOOO ..." -Gimli, coming down with red face.

They staggered to their feet as Aragorn turned around, searching for Frodo. He paused, calling out:

"!"

A mere two feet away, Frodo looked up from his bong and sighed. "*WHAT*!"

"We have to go. Wipe away your tears and put that pipe away."

"Whatever." /... darling ... rroowwwlll .../ Frodo stowed his gear and they continued on, their little hobbit legs barely a match for the men and elf that led the way. Gimli hefted along, barely able to keep up himself. But then, he was hefting two.

/... huff-puff ... damn! ... huff-puff ... damn!.../

They made the edge of the woods by lunchtime, or was it elevensies? Or supper ... or dinner ... or snackies after sexies? ...

Anyhoo ...

They made it to the Lorien woods and entered a path, walking along the way, relieved to be out of the open. It would have been faster but they had to pry Legolas off of every tree they passed. And ... there was Gimli crabbing about elves, even though secretly he craved them like heroin. Then there was Aragorn worrying about whether being the Head Cheese would give him crows feet. And then there was the hobbits wondering if they would be course one on the big table tonight from all the tales they had heard about the Witch of the Lorien Woods. Pippin didn't mind. He could finally use that big carrot if he was.

"I can walk on water and not leave footprints. The day an elf can catch me flat footed is the da-"

An arrow went up Gimli's nose, hoisting him two feet off the ground. Yes, he was almost normal height there for a moment or two...

A snarky-looking but really *hot* elf appeared, his lip curled up Elvis-style as he swaggered down into view, coming out of the foliage where he had blended so well. Around him, standing tall and completely sexlessly, several androgynous-looking but utterly platinum elves held their arrows out. Pointedly.

Sorry.

PLEASE READ THE TWO SENTENCES BELOW FOR GODSAKES! OR ELBERETH! OR MANWE! OR ... OR ... A BUNCHA PEOPLE WHO REQUIRE THOSE DAMNED LITTLE DOTS OVER THEIR NAMES THAT I CAN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO PUT THERE!

THOSE GUYS!

Enter Elvish speech denoted by this ... {{{...}}} (For those wankers who never read the notes ...)

{{{"So ... this dwarf thinks he can sneak up on us on our *own* turf does he? This fat little dwarf that looks five months pregnant? This dwarf that is going to spawn in the sacred sanctuary of my Fath- ... my Lord Celeborn's woods? This hairy-nosed, sawed off, sexually ambiguous, blaspheming, godless, tiny, *little* *TWIT*!"}}}

{{{"Yes,"}}} Aragorn said, in Elvish. {{{"That one."}}}

{{{"Oh,"}}} Haldir said, turning to the hot human that obviously was the new Head Cheese. {{{"So, what brings you here today, Ara honey?"}}}

{{{"We need help."}}}

{{{"That much is obvious,"}}} Haldir replied with a sniff as he checked out the talent. The tall human with Aragorn had potential but the others ... the dwarf could clean culverts with his gut, the hobbits ... they would make nice table ornaments for the twisted Lady Galadriel. Aragorn? He would pay for his insolence. drool The nancing elf boy? They had *enough of those, thank you very much* already.

{{{"Come on."}}}

They turned and followed him into the woods where he blended in immediately, which caused the rest of them to get lost around every turn and find themselves two days late getting to where they were going, which was the hidden and slightly kinky looking world of Galadriel and Celeborn. (tm)

They paused, gathered together. A bright light appeared and then the Lord and Lady of the Wood. Aragorn stared at Galadriel, considering her highly doable, even if she was older than Lucifer and twice as twisted. She was his girlfriend's granny and boy howdy ... was she ever hot. Amazing stuff, L'Oreal...

{{{"Nine walkers there be setting out from Rivendell but only eight appear here. I hear the pony bit it too. Too bad. I wanted to shoot the shit with Gandalf."}}}

"What is he saying?" -Merry

"He's saying he wants to do you over a divan." - Legolas, lying and projecting at the same time.

"Swallow!" -Merry

{{{"You are weary with sorrow," Galadriel began, all the while giving the eye to various men and half men in the group. "You must rest and eat great heaps of cholesterol, making sure that if the orcs don't get you, heart disease does. If you die before you leave our great and enchanted but slightly twisted woods, I will make sure you get a Viking funeral, if I knew what Vikings were. I would light a candle to your memory each year on St. Vitas' Day, when temporary insanity overcomes us and we do it like bunnies with every one we can find. I will personally keep several of you in my heart even as I keep you in my pants for the duration of your stay. Any questions?"}}}

"Swallow!" -bilingual members of the group.

"What did she say?" -Merry

"You're first." -Legolas

**********Later on ...

"What are you sniveling about, Boromir?" Aragorn asked passing by.

"I think I'm going to buy it in the next reel!" /huge sniveling sound/ "I will never go out and hunt little furry animals again, killing them with my big sword and smearing their blood on the cheeks of innocent little children."

"You do *that*?" Aragorn asked, appalled.

"Yeah. I don't give a fig what Oscar Wilde says, the poof!" Boromir said, his best midlands soccer hooligan accent in place.*

*{Literary digression: Oscar Wilde on his views of fox hunting: "The unspeakable in hot pursuit of the uneatable."}

Sigh! I love Oscar Wilde ... but I digress ...

"So, tell me. Unburden yourself. Share your load. A burden shared is a burden halved."

"Aragorn?"

"Yes?" /... darling .../

"Do me and shut the hell up. *I'm* the reconstructed, fully actualized New Age/Old Age man here!"

"Gotcha boss."

Cut from mad humping against a mallorn tree to a secluded alcove nearby ...

"And I got *this* scar when an orc tried to impale me on his tiny little -" -Haldir

"SQUEAL!" -Merry, just before he loses his second-hand virginity to an elf.

Ten minutes later...

"And I got *this* scar when an orc tried to impale me on his tiny little -" -Haldir

"Squeal!" -Pippin, just before he loses his slightly soiled virginity to an elf.

Twenty minutes later ...

"And I got *this* scar when an orc tried to impale me on his tiny little -" -Haldir

"Squeal!" -Sam, just before he loses the virginity he can't *give* away to an elf. "AN ELF, MR. FRODO!"

Thirty minutes later ...

"And I got *this* scar when an orc tried to impale me on his tiny little -" -Frodo

"GIVE ME A MINUTE! I JUST BONKED THREE OF YOU LITTLE BASTARDS! WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM? INHUMAN?" –

Haldir, trying to straighten a few bent things.

Meanwhile ...

"There, there, Boromir. Do you want to nurse? It makes Legolas feel a *whole lot better*," Aragorn said, smiling his best daddy/mommy smile.

"There you go," Boromir sobbed. "Throwing *his* name into this delicate moment when I'm trying to make my character more sympathetic so people will cry when I'm impaled by that wanker, Lurtz."

"Let me rephrase that then, honey," Aragorn soothed. "Do you want to nurse? It makes *me* feel *a whole lot better*."

"Don't mind if I do..."

***SUCK***!

"!!"

Ten minutes later...

After sex and aperitifs, they all retired to their various bean bags on the ground and began to snore. But for Merry. He had a 'counseling' session with Celeborn for later.

Heh-heh-heh ... counseling session ... SNERK! ...

Frodo, feeling restless and needing more 'counseling' of his own, watched Galadriel sweep by, all swan-like and totally weird.

/... hmmm ... I think I'll follow her. What could be the harm of that? Maybe she'll let me look up her dress.../

He got up and snuck out, following the golden lady into the darkness.

The fool.

Tbc c2010


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9: Whoo Hoo, Baby! ****************************

"What will I see?" Frodo asked suspiciously.

"He asked it. The little guy, Mr. Everyman in the great confused world ...

"A very simple question, you can see. And one yet loaded with meanings, I dare say, subtle shadings of meanings, half meanings, double truths, words whispered in dark corners of the mind, things best left untouch-"

!***BONG***!

Elbereth looked at the prone figure of her slightly dented husband. She sighed, regretting the day he got hooked on pond vision and meddled in her meddling. She sighed and put the skillet back in her girdle, hedging it against further use later.

She moved back to her pool and stared down again, noting with huge satisfaction that she didn't look a day over ten trillion. Brushing back some really nice but really old hair, she began to meddle once more. As she did, her teenaged daughters entered the room.

"MOM! WILL YOU TELL ATHENA TO STAY OUT OF MY LITTLE BLACK BOOK, FOR ILUVATAR AND ZEUS' SAKE!"

A sexy minx with a huge resemblance to her mother smiled, her dazzling dimples nearly exploding her face.

"MAMA! TELL VENUS TO STUFF IT! AND WHO IS ZEUS!"

Elbereth sighed and shook her head. "I hate teenagers. I should have just said no, but NOOooooOOOOOooooo ... I just *had* to get laid. Now look at what I have to put up with. Girls out there? Keep it in your pants."

"Mom, you are *not* on the Osbournes."

"Oh. Okay. LEAVE EACH OTHER ALONE! Any questions?"

"Yeah," Venus said, vamping up to the pool. "Can I have the little guy with the hairy feet?"

"Which one?" Elbereth asked, strangely satisfied with this twist in her daughter's taste in men.

"All of them."

Elbereth sighed and clutched her throat.

*****Lothlorien ...

A slim woman stood by her *own* little faux pond, staring at a man-child creature thing with big hairy feet. She was more than just a little turned on.

"This can show things that were, things that are and things not yet come to pah-st."

"Pah-st?" Frodo asked. "That isn't the name of a beer is it?"

"Pabst, you little twit!"

They both looked up, startled by the disembodied voice.

"SHUT UP!" Venus said, shoving her sister aside. They both stared into the basin. "You almost gave yourself away. REALLY! If I didn't know better, I would *swear* you're a Lesbian."

/... little do you know, hot pants ... rrrowlll .../ Athena sighed and moved closer to her sister.

"What was that?" Frodo asked, searching for signs of Mordor everywhere.

"Nothing," Galadriel squeaked, making a mental note to bitch slap her lover, Athena, at a later date. Ah, the burdens of a bisexual in the modern ancient world ...

"So ... let me get this. I'm suppose to look in there and see things, fall on my butt and give you the Ring."

"Yes."

"No," Frodo said, getting all intense and stubborn, the look his father always liked best when he was drunk and horny. His father, that is.

"Yes."

"Okay," Frodo said, peering inside. He was shocked at what he saw.

NARRATOR: This is an adult story but there are some things that we need to have consensus on. Raise your hand if you want to know what he saw.

Pause.

Okay. Raise your hand if you don't.

Pause.

Okay. You have it. We won't tell you. Cut to Helms Deep- ... what is that, Swindon? There's a riot in heaven? Take it away, camera three!

HUGE RAUCOUS NOISY RIOTING AND BURNING OF STUFF. CUT TO ELBERETH TAKING A HAIR BRUSH TO HER DAUGHTERS' BUTTS. CUT TO MANWE TRYING TO COME TO AND GETTING KNOCKED OUT AGAIN WHEN TWO TEENAGED GIRLS, A GRAY HOUND, A KOMODO DRAGON AND AN ENRAGED GODDESS WITH A HAIR BRUSH RUN OVER HIM IN THEIR HASTE TO CONNECT.

Ah, the love of mothers and daughters ... cough ...

**********Narrator's Union grievance hearing ...

Hearing Officer: "THEN YOU CUT FROM A VERY TENSE MOMENT OF EXPOSITORY TO WHAT? RIOTING?"

Narrator: "Yep."

HO: "YOU ARE A TWIT!"

N: "DON'T CALL ME A TWIT, HO!"

HUGE ENORMOUS GIGANTIC BLAST OF THUNDER, FOLLOWED BY HAIL AND BRIMSTONE AND LIGHTNING...

"NOW HEAR THIS! THIS IS ILUVATAR! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! NARRATOR! CUT NOTHING OUT! ELBERETH! STOP HITTING MANWE! MANWE! STOP BEING SUCH A PUSSY! ATHENA! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE A LESBIAN! VENUS! BE AT MY PLACE AT SEVEN! NAKED! BRING YOUR SISTER! THAT IS ALL!

The universe, paused in its tracks, began spinning again ...

"Okay, what do you want?" Frodo asked, sighing.

"I want love. Lots of it. Mostly standing up against a light post with you under my skirts. 'K?"

Frodo grinned that lovely sexy grin of his that no one could resist.

"Why didn't you say so?"

He ran up and disappeared under the folds of her diaphanous gown. She staggered around until she found a pillar to lean on, singing praises to Elbereth at the top of her lungs.

"OOOH SWEEEET MYSTERY OF LIFE AT LAST I FOUND ITTTT!"

Every Elf in Lothlorien was pleased. It was someone else and not them. Even Celeborn smiled. When Merry got off his fae.

Mordor, where the wind blows. Where flowers don't grow(s). Mordor, where the shadows are. Mordor, where its so friggin' boring most of the time you wonder why anyone would care one way or the other about that big disembodied eye...

Sauron sniveled. "I haven't been hurt this bad since the last time I had a sty."

/... I'd cry, but I'd drown ... I *hate* my life! ... where the hell did I put the visine? ... if I had hands I would poke myself to death .../

Mordor, where the snivelers lie ...

Saruman paced up and down, worried and torn betwixt and between. Sauron wanted him to make an army. Well! He would. AND! He would be there when each one of them were born, crawling out of the primordial sludge.

AND! He would have an orgasm each time he saw it.

SO THERE! SAURON!

He paused in front of the mirror. "What do you think?" he asked his little orc right hand man. "It doesn't make me look too fat?"

"No, the look is good on you."

"I can't *wait* to portray the mad scientist in the revival of Rocky Horror Show at the Grange!" Saruman said, spinning in his heels and fishnets. "If only Sauron could wait until *next* weekend to take over the world."

"I know, boss," the little orc said with a sigh. "I know." /... world domination's gain is drama's loss .../

***********Lothlorien ...

Legolas stood in the clearing, singing to Elbereth, unaware that there was a riot going on in heaven. He was luminously gorgeous, standing alone and Aragorn, fresh from doing Boromir, decided to do Legolas too ... yes, Legolas ... the other white meat.

He crept up and was spotted before he could come very far. The world fell away and they were alone, lost on a deserted beach, white sand stretching all over the place. They turned and ran toward each other and fell into each other's arms, landing in the warm seawater.

Of course, at that moment a great white came by and ate them both.

Narrator: "I hate teenaged girls. ELBERETH!"

The film rewinds, a shark pukes up two people, the sand turns to forest and they're back at square one. Two immortal god girls have a very sore butt.

"Aragorn. I waited for you."

"Ah, Legolas ... you shouldn't have."

"I really didn't. I had to blow Celeborn but that is a treaty thing between him and my dad. Hope you don't mind."

"No," Aragorn said, nodding sympathetically. "You sometimes have to do hard things for your country. You're a damned patriot, Legolas!"

He blushed prettily and kicked a dirt clod with his toe. "Gorsh. Thanks!"

Then they fell on the ground and began doinking.

**********Nearby...

Boromir sat in a basin of water, soaking his behind. It never failed. Aragorn was a raging top and he was just a sort of top kind of guy. The man topped him on everything, including topping. It wasn't fair. He was doomed to be second best.

He sighed. That settled it. They would have to be married. He would register tomorrow. He would register at Black and Decker. God, there was nothing like a good power tool.

/... snicker .../

**********Nearby...

Merry and Pippin compared hickeys, love bites on the inner thighs and bondage marks around their wrists. Merry won hands down because he was a sexaholic. He smiled. Pippin would never best him. He was merely wayward.

Merry sighed and smiled, a slightly sad and knowing smile, the kind people give you when you don't measure up and they feel really sorry for your sorry butt.

That kind.

/... yes, when it comes to being a slut, you will always be an also ran, Pippin .../

Pippin merely grinned, his demented simpleton brain unaware that he had just been insulted. He was also unaware that doing the entire Palace Guard of Lothlorien was a no-no to normal people. But then one could hardly call Pippin Took-Baggins-Gandalf a normal person. Hobbit. Istari-maiar boy thing. No sir, you couldn't.

One should celebrate that kind of abnormality.

BREAK OUT THE MOET!

C2010 tbc


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10: Melancholy Baby, Mine ****************************

Everyone woke up from their stupors the night before. They would be leaving by boat and the Lorien elves had plenty of things for them to take. They would gather at the river ... the wonderful, wonderful ri-i-ver ... Oh! we'll all gather at the ri-ver that flows by the throne of the Lord ... Celeborn.

:-D

Anyway ... cough ... they gathered, all decked out, serenaded by the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders ... I just threw that in there ... uh, they gathered and got all kinds of personal stuff. Here it is, from their customs declarations slips ...

Aragorn: Narsil, one, sword, shards of

green cape and pin, can make you disappear bottle of Chianti and a box of Ritz crackers extra rolls of toilet paper

Celeborn's best wishes, with tongue chaser

Boromir: Johnny Walker Red

lube for his butt

ointment for his rash

a disappearing cape and pin yawn

a handshake from Celeborn and a pinch from Galadriel

Frodo: a supply of tar heroin for his bong

a jewelry polisher

a subscription to Nude Volleyball Magazine four boxes of condoms, fruit flavored

an invisible cloak, overkill considering his Ring Haldir's personal fax number

Galadriel's personal fax number

a full length nude portrait of Celeborn

Merry: a nice selection of vegetables

heroin kit, one

a toothbrush, used only once

an invisible cloak G

Haldir's personal fax number

Celeborn's undying love

Pippin: three colors of Play Doh

Frodo's old heroin kit

a box of salt peter

a cloak that makes him *think* he's invisible an acceptance letter from the Little Fairy Boys Preschool in Lothlorien

Sam: a knife to cut Aragorn's throat with

a small explosive device to kill Aragorn with a rope to strangle Aragorn with

a pillow to smother Aragorn with

a cloak that doesn't make him disappear, it just makes him *look* that way

a fifty pound block of cement to crush Aragorn's head lithium, one month's supply

Gimli: A coffee table book on Gargoyles

a book by Dr. Spock

a hook rug with a stork on it kit

booties, all sizes

a leather strap to beat himself with

a cloak that may be invisible but still shows the front of his gut, its getting so big

the cold shoulder from Celeborn and a wink and a nod from Galadriel, a sexual adventurer if there ever was one

Legolas: Cosmopolitan subscription

British Vogue

Complete Maybelline Make up Kit

three teal camisoles

a good British brush, wire bristle of course a pound of lube, cherry flavored

box of condoms, extra ribbed

butt plug, just in case

a nude group keepsake photo from the Mirkwood Ex-patriots, the Macaroni Boys and Sue

They staggered to the boats and climbed in, Gimli and his gut with Legolas. he won the stone, paper, scissors competition with the others Merry and Pippin hopped in with Boromir, bringing into being the rumor that they were all in a threesome. Aragorn took Frodo and *then* they got into the boat. SNICKER!

Floating along the old Mississippi!

They made it to the Argonaths eventually and when they did, Boromir and Aragorn were very teary-eyed.

"BEHOLD! MY ANCESTORS OF YORE!" -Aragorn

/... sure! ... rub it in! .../ -Boromir, filled with lust and jealousy, a bad combination on a good day...

"Like ... who are they, Boromir?" Merry asked, his face empty of guile and nearly every other thing you can think of.

"Uh ..." Boromir got a sick idea in his head. "They are my ancestors."

"Aragorn said they were his."

"He lied," Boromir lied. "He's a liar. In fact, he really isn't six feet tall. He's four feet eleven."

"My Uncle Fudd is that tall. Tell me, Aragorn is taller," Pippin persisted. "How can he be that small and look so tall?"

"Uh ... because."

"Okay," Pippin replied, a sort of Gilligan look on his face, one that spoke of depravity and bad DNA coupled with a cluelessness only rivaled by sea slugs.

Boromir sighed. He was a total sucker for that look.

**********Back at Rivendell ...

Lord Elrond stood on the tennis court, bouncing a ball against the wall and went over a bad dream that had been persistent in his mind. It had begun about the time he first had sex with that sexy bitch, Legolas.

He had a dream where he walks in all nonchalant and filled with joie de vivre and falls into a sexual interlude that reminded him remarkably of sex with his wife.

That was strange. Legolas was a boy. He had even checked him out in the head the next day. Legolas had a schlong, of that he was sure. What surprised him was that when he bonked him, Elrond couldn't find it. However, by then, he was too far gone to think of anything but coming like an avalanche.

Which he did.

Elrond preened and grinned. /... you still have it and now so does Legolas ... heh-heh-heh .../

He sighed. Why did it feel like boinking a hairy-faced man?

He concentrated his thoughts and by the stoke of midnight, he had a clearer idea of what had happened. When it hit him, he fell over into a faint.

**********On the trail...

Gimli felt the bile coming up and hung it out over the edge of the boat. He had been barfing for two days. He hated barfing. It was so non-conducive to romance. With the father of his child paddling the boat and making retching noises of his own every time he blew chunks, Gimli knew he had his work cut out for him.

/... sigh ... the course of true love never runs smooth ... UPCHUCK! ... gah ... I'm glad his old man is loaded ... BELCH! .../

**********Mordor ...

The eye hovered over to the window and sighed. It was so damned hard to do things when you didn't have hands. He could hover and he could look at stuff but that was about it. He had to ESP his thoughts. He liked scaring that little hobbit twit that had *HIS RING* (tm) but that was about all he could do. If he was here, all Frodo had to do was put the Ring on his finger and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Frodo could put the Ring on the floor and how could he pick it up?

He couldn't. He also couldn't trust an orc to do it for him. After all, those guys weren't exactly first class citizens themselves. The punks. He would have sighed if he had a mouth. Another reason he wanted to get the Ring. If he had the Ring, he would have a finger and then he could give it to the whole world.

The finger, that is.

Sigh.

Must have the Ring. Must have the Ring. Must have it. Must have it. MUST!MUST!MUST!MUST!

**********That night ...

Frodo tossed his bong aside, memories of home flooding in. He missed the old man, of all things, and he wondered how he would tell his mother, Bilbo. Sighing, he conjured up pictures of old Mom fussing around the kitchen, talking out loud to imaginary creatures only he could see. He remembered how his father/mother struggled to put spuds on the table while Dad was out circuit riding and taking confessions.

For years Bilbo thought his father was a bookie. He didn't know that he wasn't a hobbit. He figured his old man had a thyroid problem. Instead he was an Istari and maiar and all kinds of weird crap like that.

Frodo just got by, trying not to listen when his folks had sex. He could hear it through the walls when they did. The bed would bound and he could hear all kinds of awful pig noises. It made him homesick for a boy or girl friend. He wanted someone to make pig noises of his own with.

Sam had come close. Sam *was* close. However, he wanted to have a girl friend because as nice as they were, Sam's boobs weren't as big as girl boobies. He made the mistake of saying that to his father, when they had their bi-annual sex talk.

He still cringed.

"Frodo, boobs only have to be big enough to fill an honest man's hand. And every other aural cavity that he has. Now I remember a stripper in Minas Tirith ..."

He went on for hours describing women with seventy inch bust sizes. The mere thought of it scared but didn't daunt him. If only Sam would get implants he considered. He'd be perfect.

It was about that time that Frodo noticed a latent homicidal streak rising in Sam.

It made him hard.

Sam was his personal pit bull and he felt nothing but contentment at having the beady-eyed little baboon with him at all times. Except when he was having sex with other people. It was at moments like that, when Sam would stab them in the butt cheeks with a fork that his limitations would show.

Sigh. Such was life.

He tamped more tar into his pipe and smoked his brains out, waiting for Aragorn to drag him into the bushes for a good hard shag.

**********Nearby ...

He stared at the sky, considering his own parents and their hopes and dreams for his future. Thranduil wanted him married off before he 'gets knocked up, Minuial'. That was when his mom, Elbereth bless her, would remind him that Legolas was a boy.

It reeked havoc with your confidence.

Of course, he *was* the prettiest thing ever seen in Middle Earth. That was unchanging. That counted in the superficial world within which he existed. Of course, *he* knew that he was a deeper person. He read books and played chess. He could talk about philosophy and stuff.

/... ask me! ... I can tell you about things ... I know my multiplication tables up to nine. Seven times nine is .../ fingers move in the dark /... sixty-three ... see! .../

He sighed and thought about Aragorn. He would marry that man, that big strong man and have his kids. Of course, he would have to beg some woman to do *that* part but hey! He was good on his knees.

With a happy sigh, he opened his arms and sent a prayer up to Elbereth.

**********In heaven ...

"What do you think? Do we take pity on him or bong boy?"

"I think they look cute together. Maybe they need to shag each other and then Aragorn will know what he has."

"Manwe ... you are a hopeless romantic."

He smiled. "I am." /... I also like pervie hobbit porn .../ "Pass me the popcorn, baby."

"No problem," she said, snuggling up to him.

Nearby, planning hell of their own, the grounded daughters of Manwe and Elbereth, Venus and Athena Zeus-Jones made up plans of their own.

C2010 TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11: Venus, Goddess of Love (Jones) *******************************

She sighed, a frown marring yet enhancing her perfect forehead. She turned and stared at her sister, the winsome and slightly masculine Athena.

"Parents are such trash."

Athena nodded. "They are. Personally, I would have loved to have just jumped out of the old man's head fully formed than to be squeezed out of mom like some kind of common person."

"Mom told me about that. She said she was doing her nails and looked down and there you were, lying on the rug. She was really mad about the rug," Venus said, sighing. "I'm glad I rose out of the ocean after Dad jacked off."

"You and me both," Athena said, wrinkling her nose. She sighed. "We need to flex our muscles. We need to get into the game. I want to help these guys." "So do I," Venus agreed.

Both of them paused on visions of shagging their favorites for a moment.

"We're grounded."

"I know."

"Let's go." -both, in unison.

Donning their *own* invisible cloaks, they hopped out the window of their bedroom and skippered off to Middle Earth.

Elbereth help them if they got caught.

Heh-heh-heh ... beggers the great philosophical question ... who do you pray to when your mom is the goddess of choice?

**********On the silvery shore ...

They camped, stretched out on the hard ground. Boromir was on duty, fretting about his soon-to-be unemployment if everything worked out so he didn't see two teenaged goddesses slip past him and head for the base camp. Of their dreams.

"It's great being invisible," Athena said, peering down at Frodo Baggins as he slept. "This one is cute. I wish he were taller."

"Stand him on a box," her sister suggested helpfully.

"Good idea," she replied, licking her lips.

"This one is hot," Athena replied. "Look at his calves. I love muscular calves. I think I'm in love."

"He's an elf," Venus said, checking him out. "We have a lot of elves. Men are rare and so are hobbits."

"That's true but this one is cute," Athena said, feeling his leg.

The elf smiled and sighed. "Aragorn ... zzz ..."

"He's got it bad for the man," Venus said, shaking her head in pity. "Too bad he isn't aware that the man is a sexual libertine, a cad and a horny toad."

"Maybe you can fix that. You are after all the goddess of love in *some* places," Athena said, staring at her sister.

She squealed like a schoolgirl, which she was and grinned. "That's like so true, right?"

Athena sighed.

"Okay," Venus said, rubbing her hands together. "Here's what I'll do ..."

With that, she turned and fixed her eyes on Aragorn, himself sitting by a tree, staring at the moon. With a flick of her wrist, she buried a shaft of love so deep in his backside that he wouldn't be able to sit down for a week without weeping with the tears of true love.

Or something.

Teenaged girls ... they are *such* a piece of work ...

Anyhoo ...

Aragorn groaned and stood up, staring around for something he needed like yesterday. He spied Legolas lying on the ground and his heart cloned itself. All the endorphins in his body colluded and conspired to gather at his midsection as he felt the crushing footfalls of True Love (tm) kick him in the mandible like a comet striking the earth, killing life as we know it sixty-five million years before, extincting the dinosaurs and allowing mammalian life forms to become at last dominant. That in turn led to a sundering of primates in the Great Rift Valley, the ones on the east becoming more human and the rest secure that peeling a banana was better than being a stockbroker.

They then gathered in hunting bands, raiding each other's proms for new girls to enhance the gene pool all the while hunting down such interloping variations such as Neanderthalensis and Australopithecus heidelbergensis and killing them on sight. Or so my grandpa tells me.

Wait a minute. Australo means a southern African ape and heidelbergensis means a German humanoid. Where does Cro-magnon man fit here and what of Marsha!

How would I know? I'm still trying to figure out who the Macaroni Boys and Sue are...

Where were we? Ah, yeah ... cave painting.

Then they gathered together at the ri-ver ... the Tigris and Euphrates that is, and began cities, writing, pollution, inbreeding, wars, plagues, famines, N'Sync, World Wars One to Three, the Young Republicans, the Internationale, Pokeyman, and spaghetti. In the end, the entire course of human development lands in one lump at the feet of Jerry Springer.

SOB!

All in all not such a bad deal. Except for N'Sync.

What has this got to do with our story? Nothing. But I just *had* to put the liberal arts degree to *some* use ...

"Legolas!"

"Wha ...?"

"Come with me! Literally!"

Aragorn dragged Legolas into the bushes and it was silent for a moment. Then a huge squeal erupted followed by much shaking of the bushes. Then two long groans followed. For a moment, it was silent and then Legolas skippered out of the bushes.

"HEY! WAKE UP! I HAVE NEWS!"

"WHAT THE HELL?" -everyone waking up.

Legolas beamed like a blushing bride. "Guess what?"

There was silence.

Legolas frowned. "Guess!"

"You passed a gall stone." -Sam, ever practical.

"You finished probation." -Frodo, who would know.

"You don't have the clap anymore." -Boromir, who also

would know.

"You found out you're not really Thranduil's son but the son of wandering gypsies who spawn with the wives of famous men and then at some time in the future, call them to take over the world and then they can have all the pizza they want." -Pippin, who ran out of ritalin the day before.

"No," Legolas said, cutting off the rest of them. "I'm getting married!"

Silence.

"To who?" Merry asked.

"No, to whom," Gimli interjected, taking the pickle out of his mouth.

"I don't think so," Merry replied, before getting cut off by an indignant Legolas.

"Enough! I'm getting married to Aragorn."

For a moment, there was no sound and then all of them began to cry. Legolas turned to his dreamy-eyed love and smiled.

"They're all so happy, they're crying. I could cry too."

"Go ahead, baby mine," Aragorn said magnanimously. He, himself was curiously dry-eyed.

/... who will be the father of my baby if Legolas is the wife of Aragorn? .../ -Gimli.

/... I won't be able to shag him again .../ - Boromir /... I will anyway .../

/... I wonder what dad would think? ... wah! I miss old Dad ... sorta ... no I don't ... that isn't natural ... I think I'll cry for myself and my lost innocence ... WAH! .../ - hobbit/maiar boy-lets, letting go at last and mourning as they move toward *closure* ...

Let me digress ...

Closure is an illusion. How can you fill an empty hole? Closure implies completion. Fooey.

Continue ...

"Look at them cry. This is great!" Venus, grinning.

"Let's do some more stuff. What about the fat one?" Athena asked, pointing to the dwarf.

"He thinks Legolas is the father. Let's go see the real father," Venus said, grinning.

"You are evil. Let's go," Athena said, rising in the air and flying off with her sister to Rivendell.

Meanwhile, back in the Undying Lands, at the big house on the hill ...

"Did you see what I saw?" Elbereth said, sitting up straight on the couch.

"I did. Are you afraid too?" Manwe asked, swallowing hard.

"Very. Very, very afraid."

"LET'S GO!" -both parents.

Manwe donned his boots and picked up his foghorn. Elbereth grabbed her

brush, the British one with the bristles, and they both turned and flew out the door.

They had to hurry.

Iluvatar alone knew what could happen when their kids met up with Middle Earth. It also beggers the question ... who does a god and goddess of first choice pray to when they don't want the Big Guy to find out?

On a massage table, near the hot tub, somewhere by the Sacred Fire ...

"A little lower."

Gandalf massaged the great ass of Iluvatar as he waited for his return to Middle Earth. He had taken an open position as chief masseuse in the household of the LORD OF ALL THE UNIVERSE, keeping his hand in, so to speak, of the news of comings and goings.

As they stood there, a maiar lass ambled in with a Palm Pilot made of mithral silver. She handed it to Iluvatar and left, winking to him as he leered at her. Sighing, he looked over the words on the shiny screen.

Sitting up, his face paling, he turned to Gandalf.

"Get your ass back to Middle Earth. We have a code red in progress."

"NO! NOT THAT!" Gandalf gasped, not bothering to take off his white masseuse robes in his haste to get to Middle Earth.

"YES! VENUS AND ATHENA ZEUS-JONES ARE LOOSE IN IMLADRIS!"

With that, Gandalf winked out of sight. Illuvatar sighed and turned to his table, laying down as he did. When they got those little wenches back home, he would supervise their probation personally.

/... heh-heh-heh ... sigh .../

Tbc c2010


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12: Well LA DE DA! ********************************

It was quiet around the coy pond when Elrond walked down the winding path toward it. He stopped at the pond and looked down, admiring his genitals in its reflection.

/... nice ... heh-heh-heh .../

Behind him, cloaked by their goddess-ness, two young teen girls admired them too.

[[[[["Wow! I think I'm in love!]]]]]

[[[[["You can't be in love, Venus! *I* am!"]]]]]

Venus and Athena stared at each other, each willing the other to fall into shadow but in truth, with equal power, they cancelled each other out. Sighing with renewed angst, they both turned to the object of their desire.

Elrond turned and continued onward, unaware that two female-lets were hot on the trail of his tail.

**********Closing ground quickly ...

Two red-hot and harried parents swept down to Middle Earth as fast as their god-ness could take them. Landing with a thud at Imladris, they hurried up the path toward the great House of Elrond. As they topped the hill, a guard stepped out, Elvish lance in hand.

"HALT! WHO GOES THERE!"

Elbereth stopped short, her husband bumping in behind her. She glanced at him and then the guard.

"Are you kidding? I'm Elbereth ... you know ... *the* Elbereth. This is the hubby, Manwe, God of All Eternity."

"Right. Do you have a picture ID?"

!- God of All Eternity and the Ball and Chain.

**********Far away ...

"And when we get back I'll get a manicure and a pedicure and a Brazilian bikini cut because its what everyone is doing and then I'll register at the local Fred Meyers and then ..." -Legolas Aragorn Arathornsson

-to-be

SIGH! -entire Fellowship of the Ring (tm)

**********At the guard post at Imladris ...

"I didn't *BRING* my purse!"

"Well, I didn't bring my *WALLET*!"

"Turn him into a toad!"

"I don't *DO* that anymore. It's like so First Age!"

"Manwe! You're pushing my buttons!"

"WHAT ELSE IS NEW!"

**********At the edge of the great river ...

Elrond stood in the moonlight, staring at the stars. He had come to terms about his ... indiscretion ... and now he felt better than he did a day or two before. He would deny, deny, deny. If that didn't work, he would claim demonic influence. If that failed, he would say that he was drunk and unable to make a good judgment. If that failed, he would put a hit on the little hairy bastard.

Smiling, he sighed and turned, stopping dead in his tracks. He glanced around and found himself alone. Of course, that failed to explain the hand on his butt. For a moment, Elrond of Imladris was at a loss for words.

**********Invisible but intensely close ...

"He has a great bootie." -Venus, sighing and wiping spittle off her chin.

"Let me feel." -Athena, grabbing something else.

"That isn't his bootie, Athena."

"I know." huge audible grin

Elrond, son of Earendil and Elwing, Peredhel and father of his country fell on the ground, writhing like he had Legolas sitting his face.

He *wished*!

**********On a hillside, in the far out wilderness ...

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, etc, et al, op sit pondered the conundrum of his new circumstances. He was now in the throes of getting married, something he hadn't planned on doing for some time to come. He had other goals first.

1. Burn out any latent heterosexuality in the stew pit of Arwen, Evenstar of her People, etc.

2. Seek out the perfect sub to dominate and otherwise build up his burgeoning homosexuality. Of course, he considered ... is there a better sub in the universe than Legolas? Well ... *Boromir* ... but he wasn't an elf ... SOB! ...

3. Find two or three elves, all male of course, to keep on the side as he gave the illusion that he was actually faithful to the pathetic sod that he chose to be his full time baby mine and tiara-wearing little wench-let.

SIGH!

/... I'm screwed ... I just don't understand how it is that I was just SITTING there and then I find myself MARRIED! ... well, at least it was Legolas. It could have been someone else ... I wonder who it COULD have been ... Boromir is a bit of a hottie ... after all, he has a great big horn ... SNORT! ... lordy, he has a *BIG*, *BIG* horn ... SIGH! ... sort of puts Legolas' little toot to shame ... WHIMPER! ... what the *hell* happened to me? .../

Behind him, lying on his back and happily considering the days to come, Legolas of Mirkwood mentally practiced writing his new name ... Legolas Aragorn-SonOfArathorn, Consort of King Aragorn Arathornsson, headcheese of just about every place that doesn't have elves. That is, if he can win it back.

His missing kingdom, that is.

Legolas began to sob, determined in his mind to help his soon-to-be ball and chain regain his kingdom, his manhood and his timeshare on the banks of the Anduin.

Especially the timeshare.

**********At the coy pond in Imladris ...

[[["God! He sure is a stallion!"]]]

[[["He is! He's *my* stallion!"]]]

Pause. Wrinkling of perfect forehead ensues...

[[["Venus, he's mine.]]]

[[["He's mine, Athena."]]]

HUGE FIST FIGHT ENSUES!

Elrond of Imladris sat up, staring around as he considered how it was that he fell upon the ground and exploded. He could sense a catfight nearby but there was nothing substantive to prove its existence. So he did the only thing he could.

He got up and ran like hell.

[[["HE'S MINE!"]]]

[[["HE'S MINE!"]]]

[[["YOU'RE *BOTH* MINE!]]]

[[["OH CRAP! MOM AND DAD ARE HERE!]]]

Both goddess-lets turn and run like they had a goddess with a hair brush after them. Which they did. Manwe sighs and walks up to the house, tapping on a window and smiling reassuringly at the cowering Lord of Imladris crouching behind his favorite chair.

"Um ... I say, old chap! How about letting me in?"

Elrond stared at the figure in the window, knowing instinctively that it was Manwe. He rose and let him in. Manwe stood uncomfortably, staring around the room.

"Nice digs."

"Thanks. I prefer masculine-casual," Elrond replied.

"You do? The ball-and-chain likes chintz." Manwe sighed. "Do you know how hard it is to be the god of the universe and sit around in chintz?"

"I can. Before the wife left for the Undying Lands we had doilies on *EVERYTHING*."

"The wife? Do I know her?" Manwe asked, sitting and taking a beer from the hand of his host.

Elrond sat and popped his Coors. "Celebrian."

"Oh god! Not her!" Manwe said, sucking his beer down in one gulp.

"Do you know her?" Elrond asked, a flash of nostalgia for the old days rushing through him.

"KNOW HER! SHE'S THE WIFE'S DECORATOR!"

Elrond rose and got more beer.

**********ON THE PLANE BETWEEN MIDDLE EARTH AND HEAVEN ...

He slid down the poop chute toward Middle Earth, landing with a blast on a sandy ridge near to where the Fellowship slept.

***KERBLAM!***

In seconds he was surrounded, armed men and others encircling him completely. He smiled and shook his head.

"It's me, Gandalf."

"WHO SEZ?" -Gimli, wielding an ax around his gut.

"Have you got any picture I.D.?" -Aragorn, his civic-ness overcoming his common sense.

"Picture I.D.?" Gandalf sighed. "I'm *Gandalf*. I was gray once and now I'm white. Gandalf the White."

"You look like a friggin' masseuse!" Gimli said, moving in for the kill. As he did, a sharp pain split his gut and he fell to his knees. "HOOTS, MON! There be whales here!"

Everyone stared at him, their eyes opened for the first time. Of course, the size 38 D cleavage straining against Gimli's tunic helped ...

"WHO THE HELL IS THIS WANKER AND WHAT DID YOU DO WITH GIMLI!" -Fellowship

Gandalf sighed.

/... oh crap ... I bet they want me to deliver that kid ... where did I put my hack saw? .../

**********Imladris ...

[[["I will beat your butts if I get my hands on you!"]]] -Elbereth ...

[[["You have to catch me first!"]]] -two girls, running like the wind ...

They pass the den where Elrond and Manwe are sitting, half in the bag.

"This is more fun than a barrel of monkeys," Manwe said, clicking his beer can against Elrond's.

The Elf Lord giggled, chugging his Coors. "I think its funnier. Its the funner-est thing I've seen since Aragorn, son of a man I shagged, proposed to my daughter, the flaming queen."

"Aragorn is a fag?" Manwe asked.

"They *all* are!" Elrond said, snickering. "They all are and you know what?"

"What?" Manwe asked, eating from his plate of little smokies.

"THEY'RE ALL MY SONS!"

For a moment, they stared at each other and then burst into laughter.

"GUESS WHAT!" Manwe asked, laughing through his beer.

"WHAT!" Elrond asked, reseating himself on his chair.

"I'M YOUR REAL FATHER!"

Elrond looked at Manwe for a moment. "You mean ... Earendil isn't my father?"

"HELL NO!" Manwe said, smiling broadly. "*I* am."

"Fuck," Elrond said, pulling out more beer.

**********On the trail...

Legolas climbed a tree in his squicky-ness at the screaming emanating from the fat little dwarf squirming on the ground. Aragorn joined him and they hugged the trunk tightly, signing every song they ever knew at the top of their voices.

Boromir, unable to climb in his burden of clothing and weapons, dug a hole and buried himself.

Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin watched and took notes, determined to apply what they learned to their herds of goats back in the Shire.

Gandalf merely closed his eyes and pulled.

**********Imladris ...

"Sho ... Dad ... you my old man?" -Elrond, sprawled under the grand piano in the corner, bottle of Jack Daniels in hand.

"Sho 'nuff," Manwe said, sighing as he attempted to eat the fish in the aquarium by submerging his face. He blew bubbles.

"Well ... crap ... I been prayin' to a man who ain't my pa," Elrond muttered, trying to sit up. He hit his head on the piano and passed out, unaware that in a far away place, he had become a father.

Again.

**********Far away ...

"That is the ugliest baby I've ever seen." -hobbits.

"He looks like a troll doll." -Boromir, who would know.

"He sort of looks like Elrond." -Legolas.

"!" -Everyone

C2010 tbc


	13. Chapter 13

Part 13: Oh Crap!

He came to under his piano, empty bottle in hand. He sighed and rolled over, looking into the perfect face of his father, the Lord of the Universe, Manwe. Of course, it was hard to imagine. After all, he had called another man Dad. Earendil, the great night mariner had always been dad to him.

Now it was all messed up.

Like his head.

He burped and passed out again.

**********Far away ...

"But I shagged *you*, Legolas!" -Gimli, much thinner now.

"I didn't shag you. I shagged Aragorn!" –Legolas

"I shagged Legolas! Don't look at me!" -Aragorn

"SHUT THE HELL UP! IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU!" -Everyone, to Aragorn.

wanders off to sulk and look sultry on the top of a nearby hill, giving off king vibes even if he wasn't one. yet.

"So ... you're telling me you shagged me at Rivendell?" -Legolas

"Yes."

"I *think* I would have *remembered* something like that. Kissing you would be like sucking on a bottle brush!" -Legolas

"OOOooooOOOOOoo!" -Gimli getting red face even as he makes a note to get some bottle brushes. Fuck the Le Leche League!

**********Rivendell...

Skippity-doo-dahing in, Arwen stares at two gorgeous men sprawled on the floor. Noting her father has tied one on again, she looks at the other.

/... you look like Manwe, God of the Universe... naaaaah ... you must be the guy from the agency that dad doesn't think I know about ... I hope you don't have the clap like the *last* one .../

She sighed and left the room, making a note to get more fish for the inexplicably empty aquarium.

**********In the big house, at the top of the hill in the Undying Lands ...

"I want you to know that I am so mad at you it will be five Ages before I ever get over it."

"MoOOOooooOOOooom!" Athena sighed. "You are like so First Age!"

"Get over it!"

mom unit stalks off and slams the door on their room

"Mom is like so constipated."

"Athena ... I want that elf. He was mine. You should have given him to me."

"Venus ... bite me."

HUGE FIST FIGHT ENSUES.

Mom unit sits on couch and tunes in the Middle Earth channel, KISS 69. Sips her tea and sighs.

"You really are my old man?" Elrond of Imladris asks, removing the ice pack from his face.

"I am," Manwe says, sighing. "I shagged Elwing when Elbereth wasn't looking. I shagged Earendil too. It was a foot race which one would get knocked up first."

"My mother was a saint."

"Your mother is a bird."

"My family was big on mixed marriages."

"That's true, Perry ... so ... what about Glorfindel? Is he a babe or what?"

Elrond sighed. "Is he related to me?"

"Not yet," Manwe said, finger combing his hair. "Give me a minute."

He turned and swaggered out the door, enjoying boys night out to the fullest.

Elbereth, on the other hand, reached into her underwear drawer and pulled out a .32 with his name on it.

/... there will be one less dog in the pound after I get through with you, you ... mutt! .../

With that, she turned and slipped down the poop chute for Middle Earth and her moment in the sun with Manwe.

**********Sitting on rocks in the sticks ...

They sat and stared at each other, the Ring around Frodo's neck forgotten. They had bigger fish to fry.

"So what you're saying is ... you're not sure who the father is..." -Aragorn, asserting his true kingliness over Boromir, who merely wanted to cut something up with his sword.

"I am no longer sure."

"You're a girl." -hobbits/maiar boy-lets

"Sam, Frodo, Merry, Pippin ... don't be sexist little pukes." -Dead old Dad, tut-tutting his youngins'.

"I am a ... I am a ..." Gimli choked. He was about to let out the secret that drove dwarves all underground in the first place. He was a birl. That is, he was a boy who could be a girl if he wanted to be. It's sort of like frogs that change sex when there aren't enough boys or girls around to shag.

Like that.

"I'm complex," he finally settled upon.

"You're telling us," Legolas said emphatically. "I just hope Elrond is okay with your ... complexity."

"You seem to think that you're not the father!" Gimli said angrily, visions of tons of Thranduil's dough slipping away from him.

"I'm not."

"How can you be sure?" Gimli asked as everyone turned to stare at Legolas.

The elf blanched, aware of how close he was to revealing *his* secret. He sputtered. No one could know about the accident that left him ... missing a few things. And shortened others.

"I don't have to answer that!" he hissed, crossing his legs.

"Why not? Are you hiding something?" Pippin asked, peering under Legolas' tunic.

"Stop it, Pippin!" Gandalf roared, mentally filing away a note to check Leggy out himself later. "We have to turn back."

"Why?" -Everyone.

"We have to make sure we know who is who and what is what. Standing around out here won't help."

"What about the Ring, Dad?"

"Give it back to your mother! I told you not to mess with his stuff! See where it got us? *I* ended up dead and in Mandos. You ended up mucking around and smoking dope without me. Aragorn got into Legolas' pants before I did and Elrond knocked up Gimli."

"What about me?" Boromir demanded, drawing his sword.

"You are on my list. By the by, love the horn. It's so you."

Boromir blushed.

"Pack up! We're going back."

With that, they all bent to Gandalf's superior will. Gandalf in turn, got a great view of all their asses.

**********Imladris...

A small figure showed up at the gate and was allowed in. He was there to find the ball and chain of his nightmares, Gandalf the Gray. He would have been white, Bilbo considered, if he'd only take a bath once in a while.

He walked in and sat on a bench, waiting for someone to notice. It would be a while.

Elrond sighed and straightened his hair, clean and sober as a judge. He had learned a lot of stuff but he had done his best to rise to the occasion. Insights sprouted on him like warts on a hog:

1. His father was a clueless twit.

2. His mother was one easy babe, he was finding out.

3. He was now related to most of the Valar, half the Maiar and shock of shocks! Sauron was his half-sister. don't even ask

4. He needed a drink.

As he stood in the doorway of his den, watching as Manwe mixed himself a hangover antidote, a woman entered packing a rod.

"WHERE IS HE!"

"Who?" Elrond asked, blanching.

"MANWE!"

"Dad? This one's for you," Elrond said, spinning and running for the hills.

***BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!***

**********Through the wonders of this keyboard, the Fellowship entered the domain of Elrond about five seconds after the shooting. With barely a sweat breaking out, they walked past the guard on their way to Elrond's wet bar in the billiard room.

"I can't *wait* to tell Elrond that you and I are going to do it full time and exclusively," Legolas said, flouncing along in front of Aragorn.

Aragorn watched his elf butt and sighed. "I'm sure he will be pleased as peas," Aragorn sighed, dreading Arwen's opinion.

They scooted down the hill, passing emergency care workers and entered, noting the number and artistic placement of the bullet holes that dotted the room.

"What happened?" Gandalf asked, spying Elrond.

"Elbereth came and shot up the place. She was trying to kill Dad."

"Earendil is here?" Gandalf asked.

"You're ten pages behind," Elrond said, sighing. "It appears that my mom was a slut."

/... damn! ... *now* he tells me .../ "I am sorry to hear that."

They gathered and watched as Glorfindel swathed Manwe's ass in bandages. Nearby, tapping her foot with great irritation, Elbereth watched.

"I want the garage cleaned out, the lawn mowed, the attic cleaned and I want a new chariot, a new horse, a new set of spring fashions from the Cote d'Sur, a buncha pictures painted by Viggo Morrison, a full body massage from those little punks ... Gandalf's kids ... they can walk on my back ... and I want-"

They all turned and walked outside. Bilbo stood up, noting his old man and kids.

"Gandalf!"

"Oh, crap! Bilbo!"

The little hobbit ran and hugged his husband around the waist, bringing a smile to Gandalf's face in spite of himself. He was contented, really. Hobbits really were just the right size.

"God, they make me sick." -hobbit/maiar boy-lets, whining as they watched their parents french like twisted gargoyles.

"I think it's like so romantic!" Legolas, turning and frenching Aragorn, son of someone who has been maggot food for a long time.

Gimli walked into the room and called out to Elrond: "HEY YOU! I HOPE YOU'RE SATISFIED!"

"I DENY IT! DENY IT! DENY!DENY!DENY!" - Elrond, breaking out a new bottle of scotch.

/... it's good to be home .../ -Aragorn, as he struggled to breathe around Legolas' prehensile tongue.

And then Arwen walked into the room.


	14. Chapter 14

Part 14: Well, This is a Pretty Pass

We have certainly come a long way. After all, when we began no one was married, knocked up, dead, or terribly bent out of shape. Now we have Gimli suing Elrond for child support, Gimli suing Aragorn for alienation of affections by stealing Legolas' dowry right under his beady little eyes ... let me see ... ah! ... Bilbo is pregnant again ... I know ... Euwwwww! ... Frodo and the boys are in rehab, Boromir isn't dead yet ... Aragorn is still going to marry Legolas ... Elladan or Elrohir is best man, if they can tell them apart ... Elrond is still drunk and Arwen? Where did we leave her ... oh yeah!

And then Arwen walked into the room.

**********Gandalf ...

I was told what happened later that evening. I had my own hands full with the old lady at the time. Bilbo was feeling a bit frisky after getting his jewelry back and we had to find an empty cabana because the kids were hooting and hollering and calling names.

The little bastards.

"You should have seen it, Dad."

Frodo told me the whole story. All the sorry details of it. Gods bless his little halfwit butt.

"You see, Dad ... while you were shagging Mom by the pool, Arwen was breaking every piece of furniture in her father's den."

"She was?" I exhaled hard. Daisies in a nearby bowl wilted. "Why didn't you get me?"

"We were too busy watching."

HUGE AUDIBLE BLUSH! "I told you never to watch me shag your mother!"

HUGE AUDIBLE GAGGING SOUND! "NOT YOU! ARWEN!"

"You're out of the will, Frodo."

**********Aragorn ...

Its damned amazing how strong a girl can be when her back gets up. She trashed the place and it was all I could do to get out of the way. Having Legolas clinging to my face while I was ducking flying furniture didn't help a bit.

Its not easy being the big strong man in this relationship. If he wasn't easy and loaded, I would dump his butt in a New York minute. If that place existed.

Boromir is starting to look better by the minute.

**********Legolas ...

I climbed Aragorn like a tree and hung on. It was amazing. He never lost his footing. That must be some kind of Dunedain thing I'll never understand but I did ricochet off every wall in the room. I have like *big* bruises all over my butt. I think I'm going to have to do some serious research being married to a man. I wonder if Elrond has that book, "Dunedain Men Are From Gondor, Effeminate Elf Men Wear Elbereth's Clothes"?

**********Frodo ...

I hate being short most of the time but it was a good thing this time because I stood under the piano and watched all the mayhem. Aragorn is sure light on his feet even when he can't see a thing. He sure got slapped and kicked a lot but it couldn't have been a complete loss. After all, he had Legolas' crotch mashed against his face. SIGH! Of all the luck ...

**********Merry ...

I got so hard watching the whole show, I nearly had a cow. Since there wasn't a bovine within thirty miles, I did Pippin instead.

**********Pippin ...

"I hope we go to fights more often."

**********Boromir ...

I just sat and watched. You know, Arwen has a great right cross. I was so turned on I could almost become heterosexual. For a minute or two. Maybe. If there was enough beer.

**********Elrond ...

This day sure went from bad to worse. First, I get a lawsuit from Gimli son of Gloin, grandson of a bitch. That hairy-faced kid is supposed to be mine.

*I DON'T THINK SO*!

Then my daughter, born of a weak moment after a backseat interlude in Gondolin with a *real* girl! decides to trash my den. Why not the hallway? Why not the kitchen? We could have had a *pie* fight for heaven's sake! But no! She broke my entire collection of Precious Moments dollies.

SNIFFLE!

This day has been a bitch.

**********Glorfindel ...

There goes the neighborhood. I suppose this means Thanksgiving at Khazad-Dum.

I'm going to have to put my foot down. I refuse to share Elrond with anyone let alone Gimli, mother of his child. I must check with my union rep.

**********Forty years later ...

Gandalf awoke and smiled, scratching his gut as he slept in a bed waaaaay too small for him. His little woman, Bilbo was curled up in his arm pit and he felt contentment. He'd probably have to shag the little wanker. But first he'd take a whizz.

He rolled over and hung it out.

**********Nearby, in the same house ...

Frodo Baggins-Gandalf awoke in his bed. Of course, there were ten other people in it as well. It appeared that the family had expanded in the past four decades and since all of the boys were homosexual they lived at home with Mom and Dad. There were seventeen youngin's living in the house, the four of them and thirteen more from Dad's incest with his illegitimate son, Samwise. Why he was called that, Frodo didn't know. After all, after thirteen pregnancies, you would think he'd wise up.

Of course, Mom thought Sam was just a project taken on by dear old dad, the pervie hobbit fancier but Frodo knew better. He had to deliver twelve of the little rats himself.

Mom must never know. It would break his heart.

He sighed and turned over, pulling Pippin's toes out of his nostrils and fell asleep.

**********In the King's House, Gondor ...

Aragorn woke up, sighing loudly. Lying next to him in big pink rollers, the ball-and-chain commonly called Queen Legolas -but only behind his back- snored. He rose and padded to the can, dropping a load. After a gargle and a quick shave, he hopped back in bed and began his morning ritual ... morning sex with the old lady while he was sound asleep.

The old lady that is.

Hunched over his one true love, Elf legs draped over his shoulders, Aragorn gave it up for Gondor. Legolas? He slept through the whole thing.

**********Hanging in a yurt in Rohan ...

Boromir sighed, grinning at his luck. Since they didn't go to Mt. Doom, he wasn't dead. In fact, he had come to see the light and had become a guru to the wandering and listless on his little hilltop in Rohan.

People flocked to him to hear the meaning of life as he dispensed wisdom for 50 ducats a session and all the free sex he could con. He lived in his ashram surrounded by his harem and smiled a lot.

/... such is the life ... now that I have one ... poor Aragorn ... he got the ball-and-chain and I got the life .../

"BOROMIRRRR!"

He sighed and considered the only bad thing that he had to deal with. The tent flap parted and in he came, his partner in everything including the occasional flare up of herpes.

"Yes, my little petal?" he asked, smiling in spite of himself.

"Little Petal, my ass. I *have* to talk to you about this costume!"

Boromir of Gondor and parts of Rohan that were in the free trade sector smiled at his lover and fellow refugee from the vagaries of life, Elrond, late of Rivendell. He stood before Boromir, dressed in a costume from the Arabian nights. That is, he wore a slave girl suit complete with veil.

"You look hot, Elrond," Boromir whispered. "Sit on my face for a while."

Boromir got a curved shoe kick in his kidneys and spent the rest of the day peeing red.

**********Rivendell ...

"I sure do like that I'm the head honcho around here," the new Lord of Imladris said, swilling his cocoa and grinning up at his elvish relatives.

"I'm glad that you like being the head cheese for a while, Elroy," Elrohir said, sighing. "I can wear the fillet of Imladris for only so long before I get hat hair."

"Me too," Elladan said, grinning down at his half-dwarf, half-elf, half-witted half brother. He would never get used to blond dwarf-lets with pointed ears. "We will be back soon. Hold down the fort."

With that they both hopped on their llamas and lit out for Dad's ashram somewhere in the Brown Lands of the East.

Elroy, love child of Elrond and Gimli walked into the big house grinning from ear to ear. Walking out to the Council Chamber, he motated toward the Big Chair in the front.

/... heh-heh-heh ... it's mine ... at least until Arwen cools off over dear old dad ... I think I'll sit on it ... where did I put that stool? .../

His feet didn't touch the ground. SNICKER!

**********In an ashram in Rohan ...

The last audience left and Boromir was left alone, finally. Sighing, he relaxed, popping finger food and chips, considering the High Holy Days coming up. He would hold open audiences, Elrond would dance suggestively before doing it with a snake to appease the Gods of Slithering Things and then he would eat lutefisk and lefsa fed to him by the virgin hands of virgins. As soon as they could find some. Of course, they would then retire to an inner sanctum where they would play scrabble and leave libations to St. Olaf, Patron Saint of Hopeless Bastards.

He looked forward to the Holy Days. He had to remain celibate until they were over and then he could slip out with the wife, Elrond and go dirt buggy driving through the Meadows of Mortality which bordered the Pits of Perdition, little known and seldom traveled parts of Middle Earth.

He couldn't wait.

The flap opened and Elrond slumped in, dejected in his harem suit. He sat and rubbed his dogs, sighing with the ignominy of it all.

"This is the dumbest ending of a story that I have ever heard of."

"Consider the upside of it, Elrond ... you don't have to wear robes, sit on a stool and look profound ... you can sit here on my lap, feed me grapes and be a total babe. By the way, dig the cleavage."

"Really?" Elrond asked, momentarily distracted from his funk. Then he frowned and raised an eyebrow. "You're lying. You always lie. You're about as holy as my panties."

"Nice metaphor, considering how much I worship your ass."

"You do?" Elrond asked, pleased and distracted once more.

"Yeah. Get the g-string and fans. I want to see you channel Gypsy Rose Lee again."

Elrond grinned and minced out, happy to be in drag once more. As he did, Boromir sighed and knew that from Rohan to the Undying Lands, he was the only person alive who was master of his own kingdom ...

**********Undying Lands ...

"You can say that again," Elbereth said, turning off Channel 69, the Middle Earth station. She looked at her husband, Manwe, the God of all Gods, bluck, bluck, bluck.

"I don't know how he went from dead to master of his own fate."

"I don't get it either," Elbereth said, switching channels to HBO. "Oz is on. I hope Toby and Keller do it. SIGH!"

"You and me both," Manwe said, sipping his Miller with a smile.

*********Down the hall ...

"I hate grown ups."

"I do too, Athena. I hate parents. Let's go down again and destroy the world."

"'K," Venus said, slipping a frying pan into her mithril girdle. "First dibs on Elrond's wardrobe."

With that, they disappeared into a flash of light.

**********MISCELLANEOUS NOTES AND WHAT NOT ...

Sauron: Felt a lot better about himself finding out that he was Elrond's half sister. However, he died of a sty from not washing his hands. Which he didn't have in the first place.

What comes first? The chicken or the egg?

What is the sound of one hand clapping?

Sauron: "I don't know. What is?"

Narrator: "I thought you could tell me."

S: "I don't have any hands."

N: "I know."

Silence for a moment.

S: "I hate you."

N: "That makes it unanimous. Sauron hates the world! SAURON HATES THE WOR-RRLD! SAUR-"

KAZAAMMMMM!

S: "I would smile if I had a face. Heh-heh-heh ... Glad to know I still have it. Some place."

**********The One Ring ...

/... fuck ... is anyone going to pick me up! ... Yoo! Hoo! I'm here! .../

SIGH!

Editor's note: You will find the One Ring in the jewelry box of Liz Taylor tagged and bagged under the label: Relics of my weaker moments. Wedding ring from Eddie Fisher.

And so it ends. I don't understand it either but it was fun. Nice visuals. Good use of punctuation. I would give it a three out of ten. Unless I was a French skating judge, when I would give it a fourteen out of eight. But that's another story.

Sound of wrenching noises as the sets are taken down.

Drunks re-inhabit the alley where this was filmed and quiet hits the mean streets once more...

This space for rent.

Cheap.

*******************************FINIS


End file.
